Trials of the Hero
by icequeenkitty
Summary: The truth cannot be hidden, no one is safe, and the fight is far from over. Will Darkwing rise to victory or smolder in the ashes? Can he survive the trials that wait for him? The time has come to end it. AU
1. Someplace Only You Know

**This is the Fourth in a series! It literally takes place SECONDS after Doubts and Doppelgangers. Thou hast been warned.**

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Trials of Hero

Chapter One

Someplace Only You Know

There was a knock at the door. She paused her merry humming to make sure of what she heard. At this time of morning, when the boys had already left for school and her husband for work, the house was usually so quiet. Binkie Muddlefoot listened to the still air curiously as she held the dish she was drying steady. The knock came again. It was a nervous, almost urgent knock. Maybe the milkman had forgotten to get his tip? But they never had a milk man before, she blinked. After the knock came again she placed the dish aside and shuffled through the house. Well, if a milk man wanted to start delivering to the house who was she to be rude and leave him out in the cold? It was a few days shy of December after all, and it was so chilly in the mornings. As she approached the door she heard hushed voices. Female milk men? Why, what a novel idea. She opened the door.

"Hiya-Mrs.Muddlefoot-mind-if-we-come-in-thanks." Said the shorter milk ma…girl breathlessly as she pushed past her pulling a large suitcase, a tall curvaceous woman followed her.

Binkie closed the door and finally recognized the red headed duckling.

"Oh, Gosalyn dear, how nice to see you!" She smiled, then blinked. "But, gracious, won't you be late for school?" She blinked again and looked at the beautiful woman who accompanied her. "And who's your friend?"

"I'm Morgana Macabre." The duck offered with a weak smile and extended her hand, Binkie took it quickly. This Morgana had a firm grip for a lady. "… I'm Drake's girlfriend."

"Oh my stars!" Binkie smiled and clasped onto the young woman's hand happily. "How exciting! When did you two meet? Oh my, has he proposed to you yet? You're such a pretty thing! You know he's a good man, but he's so shy! I mean, he's so quiet every time we stop by. Maybe you can work on that horrible habit he has of grinding his teeth. He says he doesn't do it when he sleeps only when we drop in! Oh he can be so funny sometimes! There was this one time over the summer when Herb, oh that's my husband, we invited him over for a barbeque… My Herb loves to grill and I make a mean tuna salad. Do you cook? Oh! I just had a wonderful idea! We should invite you all over for dinner sometime! It would be so much fun!" She noticed the nervous smile the young woman gave her as she spoke. She must be such a reserved little thing to meet Drake's eye. He wasn't one for dramatics, she suspected.

"Actually Mrs. Muddlefoot, we were just stopping in to say good-bye. Morgana and I are going on a trip." The little girl spoke up.

"Oh how wonderful! Gosalyn so needs a good female role model in her life, maybe we can have a girl's night out when you come back! Where are you going?"

"W… well…" Morgana glanced at her captive hand.

"It's a surprise!" Gosalyn grinned at the chipper woman. "I'm not supposed to know! I think Dad's set up a trip to Disney World or something."

"Oh, an educational trip…" Binkie smiled and clasped her hands together. Morgana rubbed her newly released hand unsurely. "Can I get you ladies something before you go? Something to drink? Eat? I've got some left over pancakes. Oh my boys never get to eat as much as they should in the mornings. Especially not the way Honker left in such a hurry today, come to think of it… who _was_ in front of your house Gosalyn dear?"

"T-the uh, milk man."

"Oh I knew it!" Binkie lightly pounded her fist with her hand. "Well the next time you see him would you ask him to stop by? I've always wanted a milk man!"

"Pardon me Mrs. Muddlefoot…" Morgana started.

"Oh, now call me Binkie!" She giggled.

"Uh… Binkie." Morgana gave her a weak smile. "Gosalyn tells me that you have spare keys to Drake's house?"

"Why we most certainly do! I believe we have a key to every lock! You see the woman who lived there before he and Gosalyn moved in… well, she was a bit strange. Always locked the doors when she heard us coming! How silly! She was an older lady and whenever we would ask her to come out of the room she'd be shut up in, she'd say she'd lost the key! Well we couldn't have her in there forever! Just imagine what the house would look like if she didn't straighten up! Not to mention what her cats would have done to the couches!" She noticed Morgana's eyes had glazed over slightly.

"Can we have one?" Gosalyn asked quickly as Binkie tried to figure out the woman's strange reaction.

"Well of course! It is your house after all dear! And we do have copies of all of them! Which key would you like?" Binkie smiled.

"T… the um, upstairs closet." Morgana blinked her daze away.

"Ah! That was one of her favorite places to lock herself in! I'll go get one for you!" She sang as she pranced away into the next room.

Morgana shook her head lightly and glanced at the girl who grinned.

"Is she always like that?" She whispered.

"Can you see why Dad grinds his teeth?" Gosalyn giggled then looked around quickly, Binkie could be heard humming as she went down to the basement. "But why do you want a key to the upstairs closet? And why did you teleport us to the Muddlefoot's front door? I thought we were leaving?"

"We are. But I couldn't let Drake see us come here, and I couldn't teleport us inside, I've never seen this place from the inside before. I could have had us appear halfway through a wall if I tried it."

"Okay, so what about the key? And why are we...?"

"Here it is!" Binkie proclaimed as she danced back into the room waving an unremarkable silver key in the air. She paused in the doorframe. "You only wanted one right? If you need more we've got at least seven down stairs!"

"No, one will do nicely." Morgana smiled and took the key, placing it in her pocket. "I'm terribly sorry Mrs…I mean, Binkie but do you have a rest room I can use?"

"But of course! There's one upstairs and one through the kitchen by the back door!"

"Do you have keyholes in any of the doors here?" Morgana asked, trying not to sound awkward, Gosalyn raised an eyebrow at the question. Binkie however didn't seem to think it strange at all.

"Hmm well, we used to have a lot of them but the new doors don't usually come with key holes anymore. Oh, the downstairs bathroom has one though!" She waved her hand toward the kitchen with a smile.

"Thank you, and would you mind not telling Drake we were here? He asked us not to bother you." Morgana smiled apologetically.

"Oh what a silly boy he is! Don't you worry, this will be a secret between just us girls!" Binkie winked. "Heavens to Betsy! I almost forgot there is an old dress upstairs that would look so charming on you Gosalyn! I'll go get it quick before you leave, imagine how pretty you'd look wearing it when Drake meets up with you! He'd hardly recognize you." She sighed happily and eyed the girl, oblivious to the grimace on her face before she danced up the stairs.

"Come on," Morgana whispered and moved through the room, Gosalyn following closely.

The bathroom door was open as they approached and Morgana pulled it shut. Gosalyn stared at her.

"You know you're supposed to go _inside_ right?"

"Only if you want to stay at the Muddlefoot's." Morgana blinked sadly and waved her hand in the air, a heavy dark key appeared in her fingers. It looked old, the teeth were complicated and the head was crafted to look like it was covered in cobwebs. Amid the intricate detailing, a fancy letter "M" could clearly be seen. Gosalyn took her eyes away from the impressive bit of metal to see the frown on Morgana's face. She held her eyes on the key darkly, like she was disgusted at the very sight of it. Gosalyn eyed the small key hole in the door.

"That will never fit in there." She said lightly. Morgana shook her head.

"Yes it will." She sighed and locked eyes with the little girl. "Are you ready? I don't know if or when we'll be coming back."

"We'll be back." Gosalyn said firmly then looked back at the door. "And I guess I'm as ready as I'll ever be, is that a magic key you made or something?"

"Or something." Morgana mumbled and moved the key toward the hole. The metal warped to accommodate the oddly shaped prongs and Gosalyn prepared herself for some amazing magic. There was a click and after a moment of hesitation Morgana turned the doorknob.

Gosalyn expected to see flying dragons, or swirling lights, perhaps a headless horseman with a flaming sword barreling toward them, maybe even a weightless clock spinning its hands backward. Instead, a musty, old smell rolled over her and a dark room panned out before her. She let her spirits fall, it wasn't very magical. In fact it was boring. Like the dark stone floored room was always on the other side of the Muddlefoot's bright white bathroom door. Peering through the dark she could see a mass of cobwebs and thick curtains, she even thought she heard rain.

"Go on dear." Morgana gave her a nervous smile.

Taking a hold of her heavy suitcase she lugged it through the door and felt the change in climate. The warmth of the Muddlefoot's house left her and a chill washed onto her as her sneakers passed over the flagstones. Her eyes glanced around the shadowed room as they adjusted to the dark. The air was stale and musty, dust kicked up in big clouds as her feet moved across the floor. It was a pretty big room, or perhaps the dark was playing with her eyes. She could make out heavy curtains speckled with dust hanging along the brick walls and cobwebs blanketed everything. There was a flash of lightening that tore through the room, illuminating the space for an instant. Eyes stared at her from the walls and after a small burst of panic she realized they were paintings. It was too dark to see them now, but she was sure that there wasn't anything alive in this seemingly forgotten place. The elaborate windows that stood out among the bricks were dirty but she could see the rain furiously pelting the browning glass. She let her eyes wander to a big bed that had a tattered canopy resting over it, and she placed her suitcase at the foot of it. She turned and inspected the room once more, it looked like it hadn't been touched in years… like it was haunted. A grin slid across her face, she felt like she'd stepped into one of the classic old Count Duckula movies.

"Keen gear." She breathed to the old air before she let her eyes find their way back to the door.

Morgana hadn't moved an inch. She was standing on the other side of the door, her feet safely placed on the small rug with pineapples on it the Muddlefoots had probably bought at a flea market somewhere. Gosalyn couldn't mistake the look on her face, the way she was staring at this room… it was clear she was completely miserable. The woman's eyes traveled the depths of the shadows painfully until she closed her eyes. Gosalyn noticed how Morgana was still clinging hard to the doorknob, like she was afraid she'd be sucked into this room all of a sudden.

"Morgana? Are you okay?"

The sorceress sighed lightly and lifted her heartbroken eyes to the little duckling. Her hand released its death grip on the knob and she pulled the key out of the lock, sliding it into her pocket snugly. Morgana's eyes flickered back to the happy little suburban house that stood out so strangely set against the backdrop of this eerie place. She stared hard and long, her eyes lingering over the simple décor as if she wanted to remember every single tacky nick knack the Muddlefoots had acquired throughout the years.

"Don't worry Morgana," Gosalyn said quietly as she slid her hands in her pant pockets. "… he'll be alright until we figure something out." The deep green eyes came back to her, a light smile on her bill.

"I hope you're right dear." Morgana shook her head as if to collect her wits before she took a deep bracing breath and stepped into the room. The second her foot hit the cobbles Gosalyn saw her cheeks pale and watched her wince. Morgana lifted a hand to her forehead weakly as Mrs. Muddlefoot's voice could be heard in the distance. Morgana pointed at the door behind her back and it closed on its own. She moved slowly to a chair and leaned on it sickly, Gosalyn blinked at her puzzled.

She almost asked her what was wrong until she noticed a faint glow seep under the other door in the room. It was a few feet away from the bed she stood at the foot of. She watched the crack at the bottom of this new door as the dim light grew stronger, it was getting closer. Gosalyn went to move toward it until heavy footfalls joined the creeping light. Morgana's eyes widened and shot to the door in panic and Gosalyn felt the feathers stand up on the back of her neck, an excited smile on her face. Morgana ran across the room, the dust rising like smoke around her until she reached Gosalyn. She was seized by the frantic sorceress and the woman used her own body to block her view of the door way. Gosalyn frowned up at her but the look on her face told her not to argue. The anticipation of what was on the other side of that door was almost too much for her horror craving heart to endure. There were excited squeaks coming through the wood as the flickering candlelight drew closer, the foot steps echoing off the stone walls. The candlelight was practically flowing under the door like water when Morgana spoke in a serious whisper.

"Don't move. Don't talk… just let me handle this, okay?"

Gosalyn's smile faded, this wasn't so much fun anymore. A large shadow moved in front of the door, blocking off some of the dancing light and the squeaking was accented by the beating of wings. Her excitement quickly turned to apprehension. Bats, Magica had turned into bats on that rooftop last night. It couldn't be her on the other side of that ominous looking door… could it? She glanced up at Morgana's face hoping to see an answer, only to see the scowl on her pretty face. Could it be someone worse than Magica? After what felt like an eternity the door slid open with a horrible rusty screech. Gosalyn covered her ears but tried to make out the figure that loomed in the now open door frame. It was very tall, and it looked like it was wearing a top hat and cape… she couldn't really tell. There were two bats flapping around its head but they took off after a moment, squeaking excitedly down the hall. The candle barely supplied any light at all, and only hinted at the form of the being in front them before it floated through the air to rest on a dust encrusted table. When the light had been removed she noticed something about where the figure's face had to be. There was a soft red glow coming from the right side, when she squinted she was sure it was an eye. Gosalyn felt Morgana stiffen her weak knees. Whoever this person was, she obviously didn't want to look vulnerable in front of them.

"Well…" A dry old sophisticated male voice traveled from the shadow. ".. look who's here." Gosalyn expected a snide or witty retort from the usually clever sorceress but nothing came. She felt her anxiety grow a little more. The tall man took his first steps in to the room. "So you've finally come to your senses have you?" Gosalyn noticed Morgana clench her fist. "Got tired of sharing caves with the Neanderthals? I'll admit it took you longer than I thought it would. How long has it been Morgana?"

"Ten years."

"Has it? My, how time does fly." The man said airily.

Gosalyn's imagination couldn't help but start weaving stories about this cold person. Was he her old teacher? Had he been mean to her in school and was jealous of her ability? So he framed her so that she had to leave? Made her become a wanderer for his own selfish gain? Maybe he challenged her to a magical duel that he cheated to win and she had to leave to keep her honor? Was he a crime boss that had her entire family killed and now she'd come back for revenge? With a strong side kick in tow, naturally. Or maybe he was an old man who was in love with her and tried to get her to marry him by black mailing her until she had to run away? She narrowed her eyes at the figure… yeah, he could be any of those she agreed.

"It's about time you gave up on that useless journey of yours."

"I did _NOT_ give up." Morgana flared.

"And yet here you are…" There was a swish of fabric as he neared ever so slightly, the solid red eye being all Gosalyn could see. "… pardon me if I don't believe you."

"I'm not here because I wanted to come back." The sorceress snapped harshly.

"Well you certainly didn't receive an engraved invitation on my behalf either, but that doesn't make you any less here. Which leads me to understand that after all this time, that you have nowhere else to go. How _did_ you survive this illustrious decade I wonder?"

"I could tell you stories that would make your jaw drop." She growled. "But the only thing that you need to know is that I'm here and I am going to stay here for a while."

"Is that so?" The harsh voice asked sardonically.

"Yes."

"How marvelous your little scheme is this time. But, your years among the apes have taken a toll upon your mind, my dear. You have forgotten that _**I**_ am the master of this castle and _**I**_ have the ultimate say in what goes on inside these walls. So, you had better drop that attitude of yours and submit your proposal humbly so that I may review your request. I have yet to decide if you are welcome here, though now that I think of it, I _am_ in need of a cook." He said derisively.

"You're nothing but an old fool, you'll wish you'd never spoken to me this way…"

"I find that highly unlikely. These last few years may have seen you rolling around in filth with dogs but I have done nothing but rise to success. I am only a breath away from running the council, my magic is stronger than it has ever been, and my mind is as clear as a crystal cauldron. It appears that you are too blind to see this. Look at you Morgana, you look just like one of them. It's time you admitted to wandering too long in folly. Now you must realize that you were a fool to think you could achieve what greater witches and wizards than you and I have failed to do. Your immature, rash decision has nearly ruined you and I don't know if I feel the need to try and dust you off to try again. You truly are a sad sight, you look even frailer than when your ruby shattered. It's time you opened your eyes girl, you have failed."

Gosalyn could feel the anger flowing off of Morgana like waves of heat. She didn't know what was going on, but she knew one thing. She would hate to be this guy in a few seconds.

"Is that what you think?" Morgana rumbled venomously. "And you call _ME _blind!"

Gosalyn jumped in surprise at how fast Morgana's hands cut through the air leaving blue trails behind them. She quickly formed a glowing symbol in the dark and snapped. A dozen obsidian pillars appeared around the room, large white candles resting on their flat surfaces. Each wick exploded into life with unnaturally bright flames at the same time. Gosalyn had to squeeze her eyes shut to protect them from the assault. It was almost like a flood light had burst into action. After a stunned moment Morgana spoke again, her voice dark and angry.

"You are the one that is, and always have been, _wrong_. Now is no exception. I _have_ found it. I've found my mystical source with no help from anyone, least of all you. I can even say that I've found where I'm supposed to be, I've found my place in the world. No, it's not your kitchen or anywhere near you… it's with 'normals'."

Gosalyn's shock finally wore off and she opened her eyes. The view she saw nearly made her eyes bug out of her head. She was used to seeing monsters and stuff on TV. She'd even hung out with the Marvels at Morgana's circus but… whatever this was… it was different. His plumage was a pale deathly looking green, his bill was wrinkled with is ancientness, his limbs were long and almost skeletal, his hair was a waterfall of silver that spilled out from under his tall hat, and his large red right eye was countered by a beady black left one. He was dressed in an expensive though old fashioned suit and an equally aged cape. His slender long fingers were crowned with menacing looking black claws that looked sharp enough to scar stone. If she hadn't been warned by Morgana she would have let out an impressed shout. Instead she held her mouth shut as the man looked around in unmasked surprise.

"I'm a stronger spell caster than you'll ever be." Morgana snarled lowly. In response his eyes slid slowly back onto her. "And as much as I hate to admit it I don't have anywhere to go at the moment. Before you start gloating over your correct prediction I think you ought to know I'm not alone."

Without warning Morgana stepped aside. Gosalyn was immediately fixed with a startled and furious pair of mismatched eyes. She tried to smile at him but all she could manage was a grimace. The fire in his eyes made her want to scamper back behind Morgana's legs.

"What is the meaning of this?" He fumed barely able to form words through his anger.

"This is Gosalyn Mallard and she will be staying here with me. I can see you know what she is." Morgana said calmly which earned her a livid glare. Gosalyn was glad she wasn't under the heated gaze anymore. "She's a normal and trust me when I say she's as normal as normals come." Morgana smirked and Gosalyn couldn't make up her mind if she should feel insulted or not. "So I suggest you get used to that idea."

"I will not. Not so long as I am Master here!" Roared the man in outrage. He snarled and aimed a finger at Gosalyn. Before she could even think about running, Morgana waved her fingers. Whatever spell he had hoped to throw at her only came out as soapy looking bubbles. His deep glower grew ever deeper as his eyes evilly moved back to the woman who crossed her arms with a slow, superior blink.

"Oh, you may still be the 'Master' of this castle but you'll find I can over throw your tyranny at every turn. It may amuse you to know that you've just been hexed. Any magic you try to use against this girl will only be effective for maybe cleaning up some of his filth." Morgana glanced around at the thick sheet of dust that lay on every surface before her eyes met his ferocity with their own. "But don't take that as a challenge. If you even think about trying to hurt her again, you can be damn sure you'll have to answer to me."

"Don't tell me she's your…"

"No." She cut him off. "No, she's not my daughter but I'd leap at the chance to change that." Gosalyn blinked numbly before she looked up at the stern faced woman. Did she really mean that?

"Morgana Macabre…" The creature growled furiously like he was gearing up to give her a lecture.

"Gosalyn?" The girl jumped when she heard her name spoken so nicely. "I'm so sorry I have to introduce you to this unpleasant person but… Gosalyn Mallard this is Moloculo Macabre." Gosalyn felt her eyes widen and she received a light smile. "Yes. He's my father, and I'm afraid he's always this obnoxiously insufferable." Morgana watched her expectantly. She felt his eyes boring into her like laser beams. Did she really expect her to respond?

"Er…" She glanced at the seething Moloculo and gave him a weak wave. "… hi?"

"I'll not stand for this!" He bellowed and Gosalyn flinched.

"Fine, then could you go be outraged in another room?" Morgana shot back as she stalked over to him. "I'm not in the best of moods to deal with you right now and you'll understand when I tell you how wicked my temper is." She gave him a small shove toward the door as the bats returned, a spider dangling between them. They flew into the room and landed on the bed to take in the scuffle. Moloculo looked on the verge of exploding. "There is no use arguing with me. I've become rather good at that as well. Now don't make me remove you from my bedroom."

"I'll not have that _**thing**_ in my castle!" He jabbed a finger at Gosalyn and she put her hands on her hips.

"Her name is Gosalyn." Morgana rounded on him. "GOS-A-LYN" She prodded him with each syllable. "Now you remember that and get out."

"I will not!" He roared. "You cannot just march back into this castle and think you can make the rules. I will not allow this…"

"_**Be quiet**_." There was darkness in her voice and Moloculo's mouth moved but was stripped of its sound. "That's better. Now, I want you to understand something, right here. Right now. I am not the girl who you tried to control, I am not the person you broke, not anymore. I am a hard headed woman, one that was cheated and has cheated to get where I am today. If you had met me three months ago you would have been surprised to see yourself in me but I was saved from that. I am glad I was changed." Her fingers were still in place on his arm from their last jab and his eyes hovered over glowing white ring. She held it up pointedly and unable to speak he just narrowed his eyes at her. "Yes, my temperament isn't the only thing that's changed. Don't start thinking I've delved into forbidden magic now. No, this is the same ruby you gave me, the one that used to be a necklace. Only when my source touched it he imprinted it with some of his power, so no more ruby. No more links to you." She smirked at the surprised puzzlement he tried to hide under his angry expression. "That's right, I said 'he'." She called him on his discomfort and his already agitated stated escalated in unvoiced rage. "On top of him being my center he's the greatest person I've ever met and I love him with my entire being." She frowned at the scowling face. "He is also a normal. Which is why you're never EVER going anywhere near him." She snarled. "As soon as this all blows over Gosalyn and I are leaving and you can have your ridiculous musty old castle all to yourself again for the rest of your black hearted existence."

Gosalyn cringed at the ruthlessness of Morgana's tirade. She saw how angry Moloculo looked, but the words she was saying… didn't they make him want to cry? She couldn't imagine ever talking to Drake that way. What had happened to make them act this like this? During her vocal assault Morgana had managed to herd him toward the door, all he had to do now was take one step back to return to the dark hall.

"You'll have your voice back by morning." Morgana informed him coldly with one final shove, forcing him to clear the door and she quickly slammed it shut.

There was an enraged stomping of feet that echoed off the walls on the other side of the wood. Gosalyn watched Morgana slowly lean forward and set her forehead upon the closed door tiredly. There was silence as she took in the scene with dull confusion. She let her eyes wander to the creatures sitting on the bed and found three pairs of yellow eyes taking her in curiously. They were strange looking. The bats looked more like black tennis balls with wings and the spider looked like it had come out of a cartoon. The quiet was too much for her and she walked over to Morgana, she noticed her knees were wobbly again.

"Well, I can see why you didn't want Honker to come." She said with a glance at the small candle that Moloculo had left behind. A soft chuckle met her statement.

"Yes... I'm sorry you had to see that. But..." She lifted her head up, contentment on her pretty face. "... it felt so good."

"Yeah, I kinda got that." Gosalyn shook her head lightly. "Anyway, one things for sure..." She ran her finger along the dust coated table. "... I'll never complain about Dad again."

"You haven't seen anything yet." Morgana said quietly to herself but it didn't escape her ears.

"Wonderful." She grumbled as she wiped her now grey tipped finger on her shirt.

A hesitant squeak came from behind them and the two turned to see the trio of creatures watching them. Gosalyn raised an eyebrow at them, if she didn't know any better she'd think the creatures were trying to talk. But the grin that flooded Morgana's face made her wonder if she _did _know better.

"Eek! Squeak! Archie!" Morgana cried happily as she swept across the room, the bats flapped into the air to greet her. "Oh I've missed you..." She put a hand out to the spider and it crawled onto it mumbling. "Archie..." She giggled. "Thank you." Gosalyn came up beside here eyeing her shrewdly. Morgana glanced at her apologetically. "Oh how rude of me. This is Gosalyn she's... well..." She fumbled.

"Her boyfriend's daughter." Gosalyn took over. "You can talk to them?"

"Oh yes, they're my familiars." Morgana stroked the spider's head lovingly. "They were my first successful spells as a child."

"Cool beans! Can you teach me how to do that?"

"No, I'm sorry dear... magic is something you have to be born with. Not everyone has it, most are just..."

"Normals?" Gosalyn interceded helpfully but the thoughtful look the woman gave her made her feel anything but helpful.

"No, not exactly." She sighed lightly.

"It's okay, I get it. So, what are we going to do now?" Gosalyn watched as Eek (or was it Squeak?) as he (she?) flapped around in front of her. She put out her palm and the little creature landed softly on it, it was warm.

"We're going to sleep." Morgana waved her spider free hand and all the surfaces that had been laden with dust were suddenly clean. "It's been a horrible couple of days, I think we both need to try and recover. I know I need a few hours at least to get through my withdrawal from Drake."

"You don't look so bad now." Gosalyn looked her up and down. Compared to what he had to go through whenever Morgana left she looked like she'd just missed her morning cup of coffee. (Which Drake had told her was almost as bad... _almost._ )

"The ring helps..." Her eyes hovered on the glowing crystal serenely. "...but not completely."

"You have a plan right? We're came back here to get some awesome magic stuff to help him so we can go back and clean some clocks?" The bat fluttered out of her hand to hang on the canopy of the bed.

Morgana sighed with a slow blink and sat on the matress. Gosalyn didn't like where this was going.

"Drake needs us to stay away from this fight Gosalyn."

"Nuh-uh! No way! You can't tell me we're just supposed to sit here on our butts and let him go against those jerks alone!" She balled her hands into small fists. "If it wasn't for you these last few times..."

"Stop." She cut her off and looked away painfully. The child felt the fires of unfairness burning inside her. "He's alright for now, but if something happens... we can't go rushing back. Negaduck will expect us to. Do you want us to be used as bait again?"

"...no." She pouted sternly and folded her arms.

"Neither do I. If something really bad happens... I'll figure something out. But until then we're stuck here."

"What? The Muddlefoot's kitchen is right through there!" She pointed at the closet door.

"Not anymore."

She frowned at the somber woman then the door. What did she think she was stupid or something? They'd just come through there. She stalked over to the door in question and flung it open. She felt her heart sink as she stared into the small barren closet.

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**Darkwing Duck and all related characters are © Disney**

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Well, well, here we are. Chapter one. This day, three years ago a greenhorn Darkwing Duck n00b and first time fan fic writer posted her first story here for the world to see. **Happy Birthday **_Roots of Revenge_:D Yes, I'm a sentimental weenie that's why I waited til now to post it... (that and this story is murdering me). Honestly, expect slow updates here... I can't seem to wrangle my muse very well when it comes to this story, so be patient and I promise it will be worth it. That being said, this and the next chapter will be a sort of Prolog before I jump ahead a few days... just giving you the heads up! Hopefully ya weren't bored to tears!

Thanks for waiting, reading, and if you review there is a special place in my heart for you.


	2. The Lord and His Pawns

Chapter Two

The Lord and His Pawns

In the bowels of St. Canard, there was a building even the most routine of passersby didn't notice. Compared to the impressive structures that surrounded it, the small unimposing structure stood out as much as a particularly homely tree in a thick forest. It was small, and dwarfed by the gleaming towers emblazoned with beautifully colorful ads. For most, it was as if it wasn't even there. After all, with breathtaking views in every other direction, who would pay attention to a boring old building? But what the passerby thought, what they assumed, was exactly what they were supposed to think.

What they didn't know, was this building was bigger than anyone knew. That the bulk of this uninteresting looking structure had been crafted under their very feet, floor after floor went deeper and deeper under the city. A subterranean monster slumbering beneath them, the fires in its stomach incubating until the beast stirred. Within the massive structure, in the maze of rooms, there was one that had been home to a very special occupant.

He didn't have to see the sun to know it was shining. It was early afternoon, and if he let his mind wander into his imagination, he could almost remember what that felt like. He missed being in the sun, the artificial lighting was good at replicating its heat, but it was far from the same thing. It wasn't what he craved. He longed for the sun, the breeze, the rain, the grass, the soil, the trees… the trees. He kept his eyes closed as he sighed lightly. The sound didn't go unnoticed as a wave of whispers of pleasant waking greetings swept along the walls to him. This room caught every sound, he'd learned how every bit of noise would sound in this place over the months he'd been held here, and he'd heard so many strange sounds. He shuddered lightly. The sound that haunted him still lingered so clearly in his head, even though he was beginning to feel normal again… well, as normal as he could anyway. All things considered, he had truly recovered fast; faster than he anticipated. Only a few weeks had passed and he felt almost as if nothing at all had happened. He'd been up and about two days after the transfusion… but he wasn't the only one who sprung back quickly. He shook his head, he didn't want to think about that and he hadn't exactly done it by choice. As if on cue he heard the whispers grow uneasy... _he_ was coming. There was the unmistakable sound of the automatic lock being disarmed and the song of the mechanized door sliding open. His eyes stayed closed, as with the sun, he didn't need to see him to know he was there.

"Rise and shine posy." Growled a dark voice he'd come to know all too well.

"I've been awake for hours. Just because my eyes aren't open doesn't mean I'm sleeping" he responded lightly. The voices around him suddenly shifted from nervous to hushed excitement. That, was a sound he wasn't used to hearing.

"Well isn't that just dandy," The deep voice stung him sarcastically. "… so then get out of your little flower pot I've got more work for you."

"If you haven't noticed… I haven't really recovered from the last bit of 'work' you gave me _Sir_."

"That's a damn shame. Really, I had no idea you still felt icky, would you like me to get you a blanket? A cup of warm milk maybe?" The usual sardonic voice was ten times more so, which he would have thought impossible until he heard it. "Get up now or I'll be sure to see some termites find their way into your little friends' mulch."

"Well," he breathed irritably. "Aren't we grumpy today?"

"You have yet to see me '_grumpy_' begonia breath!"

"Now, now," sang a strangely gargled, chipper voice. "… if you don't have anything nice to say…"

"Put a cork in it!"

Finally, he opened his eyes. He noticed the Boss immediately but it was the company he kept thatheld his undivided attention. A dog, made entirely out of water stood behind the eternally angry mallard. He could do nothing but stare for a stunned moment; the canine seemed to find him rather curious itself. Regaining his composure, he uprooted himself and pushed the leaves of his hair away from his shocking blue eyes.

"Who's your friend?"

"Dr. Bushroot, The Liquidator. Liquidator, Bushroot." The boss growled stiffly. "He's your latest abomination Doc, congratulations."

Bushroot felt his stomach twist. "What have you done?" he asked hoarsely as his stump-like feet found their way onto the cool tiles. "I told you not to mess with it…"

"You tell me a lot of things, since when are they worth listening to?" Snapped the surly duck. "Besides, he's the one who screwed it up."

"Use only as directed…" The liquidized face frowned at the miserable statement.

"Will you stop that?" The Boss snarled. "Just speak normally! You're driving me up the wall with that nonsense."

"I'm… trying…" grunted the dog forcefully.

Bushroot approached the creature named Liquidator carefully, trying to ignore the ignorant chanting of 'water' from the surrounding plant life. "What happened?"

"He was force fed the whole thing, then drowned." The Boss crossed his arms impatiently as if he had a million other places to be at this second.

Bushroot had never seen him so uncollected before. Really, the Boss was almost immature in his annoyance. Bushroot locked eyes with the transparent face. It was so odd, like having an ice sculpture talking to you… only melted of course.

"The whole thing?" He repeated weakly. "I'm surprised that didn't kill you first. What happened to the body?"

"Intact and six feet under."

"You let them bury it?!" Bushroot shot off the surprised question before he could stop himself. The glare he received sent shivers down his bark.

"I had my hands full elsewhere. But that's not your concern, you just figure out why drippy here is the way he is."

"I can take a stab at why now." He admitted with a light shrug.

"Then would you like to indulge me?" A scowl curled the duck's bill, he looked ready to take a 'stab' at something (or someone) himself.

"W-well, the solution targeted the brain, kind of radiating the subject's being and making it more sensitive to the objects around it. What I can figure is, with the overdose the Liquidator here…"

"Bud Flood, then" corrected the Boss coldly,

"Fine. With Mr. Flood, when he ingested that God forsaken liquid he somehow managed to bond his consciousness to the microorganisms in the water around him. So, I guess it's not so much that he is still alive, he's more like… a shadow of himself… a kind of living stamp on the organisms making them act as a collective consciousness. It's really a rather amazing reaction… but, I can't say I'm a hundred percent sure why it even happened."

"Wait, there's more! The Liquidator has supreme power over fluids! You won't believe your eyes as he bends every sort of liquid just by will!" The eerie voice said in a charismatic sing-song which resulted in a victimized roll of the Boss's eyes. Bushroot hardly noticed.

"Really?" He ran his leafy fingers along his wooden bill thoughtfully. "That's incredible…"

"But…" the watery voice sounded strained again. "I can't keep my head… I keep… talking like that."

Bushroot sighed and scanned the clear face remorsefully.

"I'm sorry to say this but… I don't think the effects are permanent. Your imprint is probably deteriorating; I think that's why you're having trouble talking."

It was astonishingly depressing to see a face made entirely out of water distort in confused pain.

"The Liquidator… will be appearing for a limited time only?"

"It's your job to fix that, Doc" The Boss announced as he glanced at one of the various plants that was still shouting.

"_My_ job?" He asked, stunned. "I don't even know what really happened to him! How am I supposed to do that? I've told you before I'm a botanist not a medical doctor!" The plants were screaming now, their excitement reaching its crescendo. His head was ringing with the single word being drilled into his brain. He couldn't take it anymore. "I KNOW HE'S WATER! WILL YOU ALL JUST _**SHUT UP**_!"

Hurt silence fell over his aching head and he weakly rubbed his throbbing temples. He was sure they were both looking at him like he was crazy, or given the company he currently kept… maybe not. There was a shrill, small scream that struck him. Slowly Bushroot opened his eyes to the see the Boss had plucked a leaf off of one of his ferns. The cold eyes were fixed on him unblinkingly.

"These 'rocket scientists' are a far cry from your little 'army' aren't they?" Bushroot frowned as the Boss twirled the dismembered leaf between his fingers idly with a cruel grin. "I wonder what would happen if they found out you'd been hiding from them. What all those abandoned troops would think if they heard you'd been huddled up in a heap in this room so you wouldn't have to listen to them anymore." Bushroot lowered his spiteful gaze to the floor. "I can personally see to it that you find yourself deposited in a bigger forest than in your worse nightmares faster than you can blink, if I felt so inclined. I'd bet the time it would take for the righteous Dr. Reginald Bushroot to sink back into madness would be record breaking."

"…Okay," he responded hopelessly. "I'll see what I can do. But, I don't know if I'll get any answers."

"You'll figure something out," The leaf was tossed to the floor where a dress shoe stepped on it cruelly. "… you always do."

Bushroot grit his teeth and closed his eyes bitterly as the Boss removed himself from the room. Now, more than ever, he missed the sun.

Floors above the underground "greenhouse" the morale was not much brighter. The sun peeked in the tinted windows drowning the office in its light. The figure slouched over his desk, cradling his heavy head in his hands, felt the warmth of the light as bitter and mocking. The way he felt now, it would have been more fitting to have a violent gale smashing his window with thick rain drops hammering every inch of the fragile pane. Every time he drew a shallow breath his chest would burn and he couldn't help but wince. His teeth hurt from gritting them and his head throbbing _(throbbing head)_ was just the icing on the cake. Under his expensive clothing were thick bandages, designed for the sole purpose of mending his broken ribs. He morbidly wondered if he'd feel any better if he ripped the damn things off and burned them. He tugged on his well kempt comb of plumage miserably; he couldn't remember being in more pain. Things like this never happened before, not since the change in command anyway. He hadn't been this banged up since before he was made an Agent. The ghost of the smell of his own blood and broken beak made his stomach churn. No, things like this weren't supposed to happen anymore, but what really was eating him was just how quickly this decline had happened. In just one night, Steelbeak had seen their top agents ripped to shreds and had… he shuddered painfully. He couldn't think about what had almost happened to him… about what he'd been forced to do after he thought the night couldn't get any worse. Everything he thought about from last night made him queasy and considering his line of work… that was saying something. The one good thing about being in agony was that it gave him something to focus on, something to distract him.

Instead of dwelling on the cackling or the screaming that filled his head he could put all his attention on the burning of even his smallest breaths. What he really needed, he suspected, was a few days to recover. A few days to get away from this newfound madness. He had heard the Boss's intentions to bring Bud Flood here and it only fueled his desire to recuperate. He wouldn't run away, he wasn't a coward, he wasn't afraid of anything or anybody, but the thought of having to look over his shoulder at every turn wasn't something he really embraced at the moment. He was beginning to wonder if the Boss had only done that to get to him, to make him uneasy… but it didn't make sense. He was Negs's top Agent, he'd followed his orders even when others questioned him, why would he want to distract him? To bring in this…. _Thing _that would like nothing more than to wring his neck? To top it all off, he'd only gotten half of his request to take two days to try to get himself together before the Boss glared at him and told him to come in on time… or else. Or else, he shook his head lightly; he'd been hearing that a lot lately. It wasn't so much the act of coming into Headquarters that bothered him, in fact if the Organization was like it had beenbefore he wouldn't have minded at all. But lately, the chain of command had been rotated and knocked around so much he didn't even know who reported to whom anymore. The Agents were confused, the Eggmen even more so, and the fatalities of both were only growing. He really needed to be here today like he needed a hole in the head. There was suddenly a loud smash as something shattered against his closed door, which was immediately followed by a manic giggle. He scowled; better make that TWO holes in the head. He glared at the door; if he was feeling even a scrap better he'd have shot a hole clean through the wood in hopes of nailing the moron. Instead, something else happened that he knew was more punishment than anything he could do.

"Knock it off!" flared a gravelly and angry voice. "Or I'll break every one of your fingers myself!"

Steelbeak smirked in spite of himself and despite the Boss's obvious rage. There hadn't been a second of downtime to be had and the mallard's usual calm anger was growing increasingly less controlled. The Boss liked being angry, but this… this was something different. As the door swung open he decided he was going to figure out what that 'something' was. The Boss kicked away the fractured bits of what was surely a priceless vase. He looked the same even though Steelbeak knew he hadn't slept at all. Then again, even in this livid mind set, there wasn't really that much of a difference in the duck's demeanor. The cruel eyes narrowed at someone down the hallway and the sound of retreating feet accented with a jingle answered the glare. The Boss growled lightly as he stepped into the office, straightening his charcoal suit as he did so.

"Dat guy's a real pain Boss," he said flatly.

"That's funny, he says the same thing about you," the mallard responded darkly and sneered at the frown that crossed the rooster's face. "Forget about him, I want you to take care of something for me." Steelbeak sighed but the Boss didn't notice, or more appropriately, didn't care. "It seems our guest has snuck out again."

"Ya dun't say, she's a slippery one eh?"

"She wouldn't be so 'slippery' if these idiots would do their jobs. Which reminds me..." he added lightly. "… Feel free to scout out new recruits. We're running low on replacements."

"Sure t'ing Boss, I'll put da woid out." He twiddled a pen in his fingers distractedly. "Hey Boss, I gotta ask ya somet'in…"

"It'll have to wait. You get out there and find her."

"_Me_?" He shot back stunned. "C'mon! I can't chase 'er down like dis!" He waved a hand at his hidden bandages in reminder. The cold eyes locked on him but weren't nearly as angry as he expected.

"Would you like me to get you some cheese to go with that whine?" he grumbled.

"Nah, I'll take two days a' R&R instead." He offered hopefully.

"You'll take some Aspirin and get over it. Now, don't make me give you the order again Agent."

"Boss, whadda we doin'?" He asked seriously. The well dressed duck watched him carefully. "I mean, what was dat up on da roof? Who is dis clown?"

"Are you questioning my command?" The deep voice inquired as lightly as a cement truck.

"… I just, I t'ink I should know why our guys got creamed out dere, an' why I was almost one a dem."

"Oh, you do, do you?"

"An' it ain't just dat. Are you feelin' okay?" The hostility in his superior's features was lessened when an eyebrow arched at the question.

"What, do you think you're my doctor now?"

"I t'ink you know… what I'm t'inkin'." He frowned and met the glare he received with one of his own.

"Rusty, if I didn't know any better I'd think you were challenging me." The Boss closed in menacingly, resting a pale feathered hand on the desktop. The blue eyes narrowed in their familiar terrifying fashion and Steelbeak shook his head with a sigh of relief.

"Dere ya are," he said tiredly. "Ya haven't been yerself lately."

"And who have I been?" growled the Boss threateningly.

"I dun' know, but ever since S.H.U.S.H. crashed our little party last night… I bin seein' 'im a lot."

"Well, be sure to drop me a line when you figure out what the hell you're babbling about." There was a different layer to the glower the Boss gave him. One he was unfamiliar with altogether.

"Why didn't ya do it Boss?"

There was a moment of pure, abashed hesitation that was more unsettling than any easily cooked up lie or empty threat. Steelbeak's relief faded as the Boss's brow knotted and he looked away.

"Get me some new Eggmen, that's all you have to worry about. Go take your two days, I'm tired of looking at you." The hand slid off the desk as he moved to leave.

"Hey, what about da goil? Ya want me ta send one a da guys after 'er?"

The Boss paused and turned to him with a pensive blink. After a moment the duck's face split into an evil grin. "No. I'll take care of it. She'd respond better to a familiar face I think." A grim chuckle escaped him and he waved a dismissive hand at the uneasy rooster. "Don't be late when you come back from your little vacation, things are just about to get interesting." He opened the door and looked down the hall. As he began to close it he shouted impatiently down the corridor. "Hey! Quackerjack! Get over here!"

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Darkwing Duck and all related characters are (c) Disney

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Woo! Chapter Two, and a first ever in the history of my measly writing career... GRAMMAR! And PROOFREADER! WHO HALPS ME WIT TEH GUD GRAMMUR... omg. Special thanks goes out to Vaporshi for being a fabulous and fast guinea pii... uh, beta reader.

Moving on. So sorry for the slow update. But expect them to be about this speed. I'm slowly pulling myself over the hurdles of writer's block but it only gets more and more crazy and hopefully not too confusing from here on out.

And let's give a nice warm "Welcome Back" to Bushroot and... Quackerjack. : Let the games begin.


	3. Distress

**Chapter Three**

**Distress**

The biting cold had settled in quickly. December seemed to crash through the city like an artic wave flooding the streets and drowning even the smallest glimmer of warmth in the thick air. Or, at least, that's what it felt like to him. Festive lights were already starting to twinkle among the cityscape, their bright colorful bulbs the only reminder of the colors that nature denied the world this time of year. St. Canard always looked gray during the winter, as if the skyscrapers would suck all the joy out of the decorations as they fought so hard to remain cheerful. Again, that was just his perception… but then again he never really had much holiday cheer. He had no reason to invest in it… though this year he was hoping to feel different and despite how deeply he wished he could deny it, he did feel different. Cheated, was a good word, he decided. He let out an angry sigh, the cold taking his breath and forming an annoyed cloud that floated lazily away. He had more important things to worry about at the moment than overdressed trees and sleigh bells. Two days. It seemed so much longer. Two days had passed since he'd been face to face with the one who cheated him, since he'd sent away his friends … his family. He grit his teeth but kept his calm. Two days, and all he had to show for it was more hours of sleep than he should have allowed himself, flanked by illness, fruitless searches, and scouting. The only thing he could attribute to truly discovering, without having to doubt its validity, was one fact that grated on his temper and nerves: His foe was an expert at covering his tracks.

The dark clad mallard shifted his weight to look over the side of the building he had set up his vigil on. His lead hadn't moved since the last time he checked. The oafish looking canine, covered in soot and grime, was still in place at the rundown newspaper stand. He squinted at the thug; he was reading the funnies… typical. His cool eyes retreated from their prey to scan the dirty street below. No activity met his gaze; in fact this particular avenue had been quiet the entire time he'd been there. It seemed unlikely that anything would happen apart from a few drunks singing dopey songs that would appear and amble down the street. He growled impatiently to himself. This was all he had. He had to scare the living daylights out of a punk to get this miniscule scrap of what barely registered as a lead. It seemed the entire world had become very cautious about mentioning F.O.W.L. and he suspected it was all to do with their leader enforcing that idea rather firmly. If he hadn't been in the right place at the right time he wouldn't have found the wannabe Eggman and squeezed any of this pathetically meager information out of him. What he had gathered was that the Organization was recruiting heavily and this rumored bit of business that brought himto the bad part of town tonight. He watched the dog laugh densely to himself at the antics found in the colorful ink of the Canardian Times. There was going to be a drop off here, any minute now. He didn't know what was being transported, drugs, weapons, it was unknown to even the terrified punk he'd pried it out of. All he knew was that F.OW.L. was behind it, and that was good enough for him. If nothing else he could hope to run into an Agent. If he could get his mitts on a bonafide F.O.W.L. Agent he was sure he could get a real lead, any information that could help him find his opponent so that he could bring this sick game to an end. He inhaled the chill deeply, trying to chase away his anticipation. He was beyond restless as his leg bounced uneasily and he fidgeted, growing steadily more annoyed with each passing moment. He had to get the upper hand; he had to get ahead before everything fell down on top of him at once… again. There was the sudden sound of screeching tires as a speeding car barreled onto the street. He locked his eyes on his quarry. The dog looked over the top of his newspaper. After a moment he folded the paper up entirely wrong and tossed it back onto its stack at the stand. This was it.

Darkwing Duck tugged on his gloves, pulling the leather closer to his fingers, tightening them around his eager hands. He crouched low, hiding himself from view of whomever may come in contact with his lead, and watched with his keen eyes the scene below. The car was rather unremarkable, not overly fancy or rundown, and it was black. It was easy to spot on a stretch of road like this but on the busy pavement of the city it could easily be lost. He watched as the vehicle slowed and came to a rest in front of the shady individual he'd been tailing. The window rolled down slightly and Darkwing strained his ears in vain. He couldn't hear them and was unable to see their mouths to read their lips. Soundlessly and smoothly he darted through the night and threw himself over the side of the building, landinggracefully on a fire escape that was considerably closer vantage point of the meeting. The rough and appropriately dim rumble of the canine's voice carried to his expectant ears.

"Evenin'" the dog grunted as he leaned into the open car window. "I heard ya got sumthin' fer me?"

"Yesss. You've got a drop off to make two ssstreetsss over in fifteen minutesss. They'll sssee the delivery getsss made." Hissed a soft voice from the interior of the ride.

So, they were changing get away cars to keep the cops on their toes? Clever cockroaches, Darkwing thought to himself as he crouched low and closer to the bricks of the wall beside him.

" Good ta know." The dog commented stupidly before nodding his head at some unseen object in the automobile. "Dat it?"

"Jussst thisss. Careful with it though… it can get, feisssty."

"I tink I kin handle it." Laughed the dog in a malicious deep chuckle.

The dog stepped away from the car as the door opened. Darkwing eyed the lizard-like creature that moved onto the pavement, he was well dressed… he was an Agent. With the greatest care he could muster through his excitement he drew his gas gun and made himself ready to move to a lower fixture of the fire escape. Before he could even make the decision to stand, a sound ensnared his attention: a painful muffled cry. His eyes snapped back to the Agent as he shot his hand into the vehicle and pulled the "delivery" out onto the side walk. Darkwing froze. It was a woman. She looked like she'd been abducted from a fancy party, the pale blue dress she wore even glittered in this poor lighting. Her long elegant duckbill was taped shut and her wrists were bound behind her back by the same dark tape, her small hands still clutched an equally sparkling purse. The canine seized her by her once styled hair and yanked her to her feet, closing her slender form in his arms. Dark gnashed his teeth so hard he swore he heard them crack as his finger tightened angrily on the trigger.

"I like dese kinds a' cargo." The dog grinned at the pretty duck's pain riddled face. "Any conditions on how it's ta be handled?"

The lizard sniffed airily as he dusted off his suit. "Asss rough asss posssible."

"Dat's whut I like ta hear."

Darkwing shot to his feet and aimed at the group, rage pounding through his veins. He wanted to smack these slime balls around until they begged him to stop… and maybe… just maybe he would. His aim was shaking slightly as he ground his teeth together, but before he could fire, the girl opened her livid blue eyes and shot her knee up into her captor's groin. Darkwing let his aim falter in slight shock as she pulled herself out of the thug's weakened grip and kicked out his knee. The canine fell backwards onto the cement sidewalk curling up in agony. The hero blinked at her as she started to run, turning right into the alley he was situated over.

"You moronsss! Get her!" Screamed the lizard and two new men scrambled out of the car quickly giving chase.

Darkwing tore his eyes away from the goons to see the lovely woman staring down a dead end, looking back he saw the scumbags blocking her only exit. With a fresh scowl he lifted his aim once again.

"There'sss nowhere to hide doll fassse. Ssstop being a bad girl."

The cornered duck wheeled around to face her attackers when the scene was quickly obscured by thick blue smoke.

"I am the terror that flaps in the night…" a voice growled off the walls. "…I am the winged scourge that pecks at your nightmares. I, am Darkwing Duck!" The disembodied voice seemed to surround the F.O.W.L. recruits in this shroud of eerie smoke. The mallard didn't offer them a chance to react as he struck pressure points making two cronies crumble like card houses. The lizard on the other hand, he had plans for him. There was a hopeless swing of a fist that cut through the smoke that was too quickly deflected and answered with a fierce kick that sent the Agent backward to collide with the hanging ladder of the fire escape. Before the vile creature had a chance to regain his breath an explosion sounded from the heart of the cloud and a rope quickly wrapped around him, tying him firmly in place, a grappling hook resting uncomfortably against his chest. Darkwing replaced his gun in his holster and glared at the useless creature, he'd make this one squeal for sure, he decided….but first thing was first.

The smoke had nearly cleared as he turned to check on the damsel in distress. He meant to ask her if she was alright, expecting to see her leaking eyes wide with fear and gratitude. However what further scenarios his mind wanted to share with him were knocked out of his head as a glittering flash of blue hammered him in the face. He stumbled backward as he tried to shake his wits back into place. She swung the surprisingly hard little purse at him again, the thick tape on her wrists was ripped but her mouth was still securely shut. He sidestepped her attack and found a silver high heeled shoe aimed at his crotch. His reflexes caused his knee to block the attack while he sounded off with a hissing inhale as if preparing for the pain he narrowly avoided. He ducked away from her as she sent the purse at him again, this time wrenching a shoe off her foot to throw at him. He covered his head, crouching low, the shoe colliding with the brick wall loudly.

"Whoa now," he calmly tried to coax her as she readied to throw her other pump at him. "…take it easy."

She was unwilling to relent it seemed as he narrowly missed receiving a spiked heel to the eye. The woman before him look frazzled and messy as if she had been dragged through the dirt, there were bald patches on the strapless gown she wore that he was sure were once home to well cut crystals. There were a few still hanging feebly from fraying threads. Her face was strong and remarkably pretty and her eyes matched her dress perfectly… an unsettlingly pale blue. As elegant and lovely as she was, he was far from attracted to her; he wasn't sure why but just the thought made his stomach turn sourly. The panicked woman swung her purse at him again, her projectiles spent, her pale eyes burning with hatred and terror. His patience now shot, he caught her by the wrist and held it firmly,

"Will you knock it off!" He growled and she slammed her free elbow hard into his gut. His grip failed and she shoved him fiercely into the jagged embrace of the brick wall. He snarled and shook the disorientation out of his head as the wailing of police sirens sang, loudly announcing their approach. He lifted his unamused glare to her, ready to demand that she calm herself when he saw it aimed right at his face. He didn't even have a second to try to prepare himself as she pushed down the nozzle, shooting pepper spray dead in his eyes.

He shrieked at the furious burning and staggered into a couple collected garbage cans.

"Jesus Christ lady!" He shouted. "What the hell is wrong with you!" He fumed as he fought the urge to claw his eyes out to stop the mind numbing pain.

The squad cars drew nearer, and he could make out at least five sirens. Before he anticipated it he heard them squeal to a rest outside the alley and his "charming" lady friend knocked him to the ground as she raced out of the alley to meet them. He cracked his raw eyes open only to clamp them shut again as he stumbled to his feet. He blindly drew his gun, pointed it into the air, and fired. He heard it catch and his hands gripped the steady cord for only an instant before he began to climb. The last thing he needed was to be caught now, blind as a bat due to the overzealous actions of a damsel in distress. His line ended and his hand gripped the ledge it had snagged. He pulled himself up with a painful grunt, spilling out onto a low roof, he assumed. He quickly drew the rope back to him. If he got caught now it would only be a matter of time until he fell into Hooter's hands, and the old bird was quite clear in the fact that they wouldn't be on friendly terms. He'd hold on to him hard and keep him in custody… Darkwing was sure of it. He couldn't let that happen. He coughed on the burning sensation that the substance deposited in his lungs and used every scrap of his will to resist rubbing his eyes. He hadn't been Maced in ages but he remembered two things: it hurt like hell and that rubbing your eyes only made it worse. He took in a sharp inhale as he opened his stinging eyes only a crack, he had to pull himself together, he had to get out of here… now. Pushing himself up to stand, his eyes watering uncontrollably he began what he was sure would feel like the longest trip back to the tower in years.

On the street below a semi-circle of police cars sprung into action. The doors opened, their uniformed inhabitants drawing their pistols as they vacated their vehicles. One blinking car was decidedly different than the others. The slick black cruiser had none of the usual police emblems; it had a complicated seal adorned with a shield and the letters S.H.U.S.H. The gander that removed himself from the driver's seat was old, his gray hair forming a crescent around his head and his eyes sparkling behind small glasses. His usual uniform was replaced by a dress suit and his customary calm demeanor was one of anger and worry. J. Gander Hooter's well-shined shoes barely had time to touch the pavement before he saw her sprinting barefoot out of the alley they had covered. He had to hold onto the open car door to keep from collapsing in relief. He took in a deep thankful breath as she darted past the thick line of police officers, her fingers tearing at the strong tape her captors had clamped her mouth shut with.

"In there!" Her panicked voice exploded out of her as she pointed an accusing finger at the dark alcove.

A few officers broke ranks to investigate, while another pair scraped a whimpering heap of dog off the pavement and into the "safety" of their patrol car. Hooter removed his eyes from the well trained officers to see the woman storming toward him, her hand clenched into a fist around her purse. He sighed and braced himself for the tirade that was surely coming, he fought the urge to check his glove box to see if there was any tape to use on her mouth himself.

"What in the world is wrong with you!" She screamed at him and threw her purse roughly at his head, he easily dodged it.

"Are you quite alright?" He asked her courteously.

"I'm fine no thanks to you! If this is what you call S.H.U.S.H. protection I can't imagine anyone you've 'protected' staying alive very long!" She was upon him now, her face contorted in the anger he was used to seeing on her young face. "Do you have any idea who I just had to beat away from me in that disgusting alley?!"

Hooter stared at her in shock.

"He wasn't…"

"Yes he was!" She seethed. "Dressed up like some crazy person in a mask and cape but I'd recognize him anywhere!"

"…how did you escape your tormentors?"

"I'm a tough girl Hooter." She scowled at him.

"Did they not give chase?"

"Of course they did, but this blue smoke came out of nowhere and there he was. Staring me down like there was a target printed on my forehead."

"Blue smoke…" Hooter repeated softly with a sympathetic shake of his head. He sighed and scanned the surrounding roof tops. So Darkwing had come to her aid, poor fellow. He could only imagine what this one had done to him for rescuing her.

"Sir!" Cried an officer as his fellow patrolmen dragged three F.O.W.L. members from the scene. "We've got them sir!"

"H-he's gone?" She breathed weakly. Hooter glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, she looked ready to faint. It was within seconds when her vulnerable side gave way to the furious flash in her eyes as she narrowed them at him menacingly. "Find him. Rip the city apart if you have to."

"Book them and bring them to S.H.U.S.H., I should like to interrogate them myself." Hooter called back to the police officer who was regarding the angry woman beside him timidly. He was no doubt glad he was handling criminals than this demanding female. Hooter waited until the officer nodded before he returned his gaze to the woman glaring daggers at him. "Do you require a police escort back to your hotel?" He inquired plainly; she looked ready to punch him in the face in response.

"ISSY!" shouted a panic stricken mallard as he forced his way toward them. The lanky figure looked rather out of place in a ruined tuxedo, and his small round glasses reflected the flashing lights brightly. His dark hair was no longer slicked back but hung wildly about his pleasant face as if he'd been pulling on it. He maneuvered toward them sloppily, absolute frenzy in his voice. "Issy! Oh thank god!" He threw his arms around the frazzled woman and Hooter couldn't ignore how she rolled her eyes. She tried to shrug him off but he held her out, inspecting her frenetically. "Are you okay? They didn't hurt you did they!?"

"I'm fine Richard." She snapped and pulled out of his grip. The young man didn't seem very put out by her harshness, he quickly turned on Hooter and seized his hand, shaking it madly.

"Oh Director, thank you so much for helping her. If you hadn't been at the party… if you hadn't…. well... I don't want to think about what might have…"

"Mr. Rockerduck, everything is rather under control." Hooter ignored the woman's indignant snort. "The police and I have four suspects in custody and we shall be sure to question them after our investigation is complete here." He scanned the pale man's face. "What of you? Are you alright? I recall they roughed you up a bit?"

Richard Rockerduck stared at him for a second before he seemed to understand what Hooter had said.

"Oh, oh yeah I'm fine." He released his death grip on the director's hand and rubbed a bump on his head before gazing fondly at his female companion. "I'm just so happy Issy's okay."

"Richard, I was having a conversation with the Director." She glowered at him.

"S-sorry dear." He grinned apologetically.

"Actually, I have got to see about resolving this mess. I suggest you take your fiancée back to the hotel and remain there for the rest of the evening. I will contact you tomorrow morning with details." Hooter informed them sternly.

"Hooter…" growled the young woman, a new explosion of outrage and probable ranting brewing in her cool eyes.

"Isabella!" Hooter barked furiously, his dwindling nerves frayed. "I am neither in the mood nor the position to stand here and be berated by you. I have assigned two Agents to accompany you and Mr. Rockerduck back to the Bilton and there they will remain as your security. You will be safe there and only there, now please go before you tempt anymore misfortune."

"He's right Issy, it will be okay…" Richard went to take her hand but she pulled away and glared at him.

"What would you know about it?" Isabella flared at the patient man beside her before she pointed at Hooter. "You'll be hearing from me as soon as I decide how much my lawyers will be suing you for… and how much the prosecutor's office will be banking your pay to cover the damages made under your 'watch'."

"I have no doubt that I will." He gazed at her levelly. "Now, good night." J Gander motioned for two suited Agents to escort the 'happy couple' back to their rooms nearly across the city. He moved purposefully toward the alley in question, not having to look back to feel the furious eyes burning into the back of his head.

He stood at the mouth of the dingy crevasse, his sharp eyes picking up the traces of the scuffle that had taken place. She had been pursued and cornered when, his eyes took in the rickety fire escape and he shook his head sadly. He walked into the alley, his imagination panning out the way the situation turned in the vigilante's favor, and then plucked a silver shoe from the toppled trash can with a light smile. The poor guy had no idea what he was getting himself into, he noticed the discarded can of pepper spray with a light wince. With a heaving sigh he searched the walls and his spirits sagged slightly. He moved in close to the bricks, a few scuff marks traveled up the structure to the roof. Darkwing had escaped this way after she'd assaulted him it seemed. Did he even know who she was? he wondered. He scratched the marked wall, the rubber flaking off on his finger. The man was surely moving half his usual speed and clumsy with his impaired vision… he could easily have his Agents give chase. He rubbed the substance between his fingers, a frown of thought making the wrinkles on his face deeper.

"Director? Have you found something?" asked a young officer as he strode into the abandoned space.

Hooter stared at the boy for a moment before he rubbed his clue onto his pant leg.

"No. I'm afraid there isn't anything left to do here. I believe we should set up a watch of the surrounding blocks, just in the off chance that anymore F.O.W.L. Agents feel like stopping by." The overanxious officer saluted him and ran out of the enclosure to relay the message. Hooter sighed to himself, when did he become a sentimental old fool? He squinted at the distant rooftop framed by the overcast night sky. "You owe me one, friend." He breathed before he strode out of the dank surroundings to reunite with his comrades on the street. Suddenly, the night looked much longer than it had a few hours ago.

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Far from the flashing lights of the law, in an area long-deserted, the run down buildings loomed around her; a strangled sob escaped the exhausted woman staggering down the street. A sea of routes, paths, and hidden spaces smothered her offering to harbor her, keep her safe. Had she been a tad more hysterical she would gladly follow their pull blindly. She leaned against a slimy lamppost gasping and her hands shaking madly. He was right behind her, she could feel him. She whipped around with a terrified shriek only to meet nothing. The tears ran down her face as she heaved a terrible sob, she was losing it. She tried to calm herself, she had put at least two streets between them, she reasoned with herself. Two nights worth of running hadn't gained her much leeway. She let out a trembling breath, trying to swallow her panic. It didn't work. Her eyes searched the deserted street, her breath still coming fast and shallow. Her eyes caught the twinkling of little colored lights and she felt disbelief crash over her. December? Had it really been that long? She had escaped before, had fled into the humidity of the late summer air. She had made one mistake then, one stupid mistake she kicked herself for now. She had stopped running. She was so confident, too naïve to think that they'd find her so soon. It was only a matter of minutes until he had come to take her back. She closed her eyes new tears straying down her face. She swallowed hard remembering the rooster approaching her carefully, she had tried to retreat naturally, but he hadn't toyed with her… he just wanted to bring her back. She shivered, oh how she wished Steelbeak was the one chasing her now. She suspected if the cold-hearted Agent had appeared before her she would have thrown her arms around him in a grateful hug. She opened her eyes wearily, the street was still void of any life, most of all, the rooster with a metallic grin.

There was a thumping accented with a hollow "ping" carrying down the intersection behind her. She gasped painfully. He'd caught up already? How? She propelled herself forward, pure adrenaline powering her escape. The street she scrambled out into was just as bare as the one she had just vacated. She let out a feeble whimper as the sound of the bouncing ball that neared her was steadily joined by an eerie humming of "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star." Her breath came faster in her panic and she had to fight the urge to scream. She couldn't let him know just how close he was if he didn't already know. As her eyes searched the buildings she was quickly leaving behind, a flash of red caught her eye. She held her breath as a Poinsettia petal floated out of an alley to her left. She let out a soft harried chuckle as she scrambled into the passage. Thank god, shouted her brain. She came out onto a slightly nicer looking street, the humming behind her still drawing closer. She just had to pray he didn't start running after her… she figured he'd have her within seconds if he got tired of tormenting her. Her eyes scoured the new location and for a fleeting moment she saw movement. She dashed past the sad looking shrub; it had pointed she was sure of it. Another street opened up to her and her feet planted themselves when the sound carried up behind her.

"Run, run as fast as you can…" sneered a dark voice playfully as the bouncing of the ball was replaced with heavy foot falls.

She felt her mind haze over. He was running. She covered her mouth to keep in her scream with a quaking hand. She could barely breathe through her hysteria the sound of jingling and his shoes pounding the pavement ripped her mind away. Terror had her in its grip and she was too tired, too petrified to even look around her. So it had to wave harder. The movement caught her attention and she snapped her eyes to a small tree, its branches waving wildly. After a dazed moment she recalled why she couldn't give up. Regaining whatever will she had left she bolted toward the tree that pointed eagerly down the street. When she turned the corner she froze. She could only stare at the sight before her. A shrill ringing sounded from where her hunter was closing in on her, it was a familiar sound. Her mind catching up to her, she recognized it as the one ring she'd heard all the phones F.O.W.L. had at their disposal sing. She looked at the tree that was motioning for her to go fearfully. She felt a trace of a smile on her face as she whispered to the tree.

"Thank him for me."

The ringing was closer than ever now as she made a mad dash for the scene she was nearing. She had no idea where she was or why it was there, but it was never a more welcome sight. The park sprawled out before her, thick with trees, evergreens or bare, it didn't matter, she could lose him for sure. She plummeted into the branches, getting smacked and prodded as she went. She couldn't turn back but she heard his giddy trot die. The horrible creature tailing her had stopped and the ringing was suddenly interrupted with a growl.

"City morgue you kill 'em we chill'em." snarled the voice irritably. " Hey Boss… not yet, but I… really? Well… that IS fun isn't it?"

She leaned against a pine tree, her hands getting sticky with sap as she tried to quiet her gasping. She heard the phone snap shut and the jingling neared her slightly. "You wanna play hide and seek baby doll?" Laughed the manic voice pleasantly and she shuddered uncontrollably. "Fine. You make sure to hide yourself real good… I'll be back for you."

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Darkwing Duck and all related characters are © Disney

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**Ah, a day shy of two months without updates. My apologies. Hope it was worth the wait. Thanks again go to Vaporshi for proofreading my drivel. And that Isabella, she makes one heck of a first impression on a guy huh? ;P Until next time (which will hopefully be MUCH sooner) thanks for reading and reviewing! **


	4. It's All Fun and Games

Chapter Four 

It's All Fun and Games

The rooms were dark, every cell that was passed, every hall way, no inmates cried out to the figure that was sedately led down the corridor. No clanging of bars or words of wisdom or degradation met the small entourage. The typical scene of a prisoner being lead to the facility's "death house" was absent to say the least. The detainee was being restrained with a series of plastic snares that kept his "handlers" a safe distance from their charge. Though he was regarded with the utmost care, any wandering eyes that would befall the dead man walking would never suspect him of even having any inclination of escape. The blank blue eyes gazed placidly ahead and his gait was only a bit sluggish as a result of the sedatives he'd been provided hours before. The prison guards were more than cautious with this one, appearances were deceiving, and countless lives before theirs could attest to this. The soft spoken rat they had held in custody here for months was truly a monster, a maniac with convictions that would make a mobster shield his eyes. But soon they would not need their caution. The priest had already been allowed to absolve the condemned of his sins… though all that resulted in was a fit of laughter and a disjointed conversation about electromagnetic pulses. It seemed he was not in the slightest bit interested in the salvation of his soul and truth be told… neither was anyone else.

The silent group reached their destination and the "T" shaped table was prepped and ready for its short term occupant. The moment the rat entered the facility his eyes scanned the darkened room beyond a window littered with the outlines of the witnesses that had come to see him off to the fate the state had felt deserving for one of his caliber. The guards gave each other a tense exchange of glances as they forced the condemned into his position on the table. It was time to begin… and the lights remained dimmed. The uniformed workers began strapping the criminal to the table and the drugs were prepared as the final preparations of the catheters were made.

"Elmo Sputterspark…" began the Warden. "You have been found guilty by the city of St. Canard and her surrounding provinces of thirty-seven cases of manslaughter, sixty-four recorded cases of vandalism, and countless occurrences of aggravated assault. The judge and jury have so chosen your punishment as death by lethal injection. You have denied your last rights; have you any final statements or comments?" 

There was a moment of silence as the convict blinked thoughtfully before he sucked loudly on his teeth.

"I'd like to thank the Academy…" The rat's pleasant, disconnected voice began merrily. The Warden's demeanor turned from calm and stately to outrage but the criminal continued unfazed. "…my hair dresser, all the little bulbs on main street that twinkle despite their anguish…"

"That's enough!" The Warden snapped firmly.

"You can't play me off yet I've barely even skimmed the surface! Oh, so many to thank for this honor… though the throne's a bit uncomfortable. I'd like to thank all the little people… like fiber optic cords and Zeus…."

With a scowl the order was given and the catheters were slid into a vein on each arm. The Warden had tuned out the morbid acceptance speech to oversee the preparations for the injection until he heard clapping. With a blink he turned to the shadowed room beyond the glass and saw one of the seated figures clapping its hands over its head enthusiastically.

"Bravo!_ Bravo!"_ Shouted a male voice as the figure rose and gave the prisoner a standing ovation, there was a wave of feedback through the speakers and canned applause filled the room.

The Warden stalked over to the glass and pounded on it with the end of his nightstick.

"Stop that! Be seated and cease this at once!"

"Brilliant speech! Brilliant like a thousand watt bulb!" Continued the chuckling figure.

"Thank you - thank you…" the rat bowed his head a few times. " And the teleprompter's out too... had to memorize the whole thing…"

"**That's enough**!!" The Warden rounded on the guard lingering at the door. "Have that man removed from my prison this instant!"

The statement was punctuated by a "splat" and the Warden turned to see a blob of putty on the glass. He frowned harshly and narrowed his eyes at the still figures surrounding the disruption.

"See here! One of you restrain that madman!" He barked but no additional movement met his statement. It seemed too still to bode well.

The lone animated figure hopped over the row of seats in front of him knocking a chair's occupant to the floor with an ominous "thump" and as it approached the glass the jingle of bells could be heard through the pane. The mallard that emerged from the dark made even the hardened and fearless Warden recoil. It was a creature not unfamiliar to children's nightmares… a ghoulish looking jester with strangely bucked teeth in a blood splattered straight jacket peered into the room. With an amused smirk the creature slid two metal sticks into the putty on the glass and knocked on the window with a wave.

"Hey recognize me?" He asked in an eerie sing song.

"Quackerjack…" Gasped a young guard as he fumbled to produce his weapon.

"Steady…" The Warden coached him as he glanced at the prisoner who narrowed his eyes in thought and tilted his head to the side.

"…are you the tooth fairy?" The airy voice responded before a spark ran along one of his whiskers.

_Oh shit_.

"Tooth fairy?" The jester repeated apparently unimpressed. "You were always a scatterbrain Sparky but you usually had a better stacked deck than this…."

The dimmed lights flared suddenly as the bulbs heated to the point of breaking. The scene beyond the glass finally came into view and the Warden's fears were realized. An audience of corpses stared back at him and he joined his underling in drawing his pistol.

"_I HATE IT WHEN YOU CALL ME SPARKY_!!" Shrieked the rat as he pulled against his restraints, his rage was answered with a horrible giggle.

"Mr. Warden?" The jester grinned at him and he felt the salvia in his mouth turn to ash.

"…Remove yourself and your goop from my prison immediately Michael Bell or you'll be on this table next." He boasted, hoping that the threat and the confidence of using the madman's true identity against him would rattle the fiend. He had it on good authority that this psychopath was dead… he'd have to inform Director Hooter otherwise as soon as the opportunity arose. _If_ the opportunity arose…

"Michael?" The rat echoed in confusion. "Wow …your teeth have gotten bigger…"

The jester glowered at his apparent acquaintance before he turned the eerie smile back on and prodded the pinkish lump on the glass.

"'Goop' Warden? This isn't 'goop' I'm sure you've heard of Silly Putty? Well… it's not very silly in my opinion… kind of boring… lacking in a certain… excitement if you catch my drift." He leaned against the glass conversationally as he turned his fractured eyes to the bodies he no doubt robbed of their life. "So I decided to spice things up a bit… this…" his eyes returned to him with a creeping smile. "Is my new Wacky C-4 Putty… all we need is a little spark to get this party started… care to do the honors Sp-uh-Megavolt?"

The lights flared even brighter before they started to shatter, the electricity sprouting from the sockets like blue vines. All that could run through the Warden's head at this pivotal moment was if the priest was still on the grounds.

_**"Dead man walking!"**_ Announced the rat as the voltage met the metal prongs in the putty and the 'death house' was soon granted even more prestige to its gruesome name.

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Darkwing Duck and all related characters are © Disney

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AGH! So short an update after so much time. If you had any idea how hard this story is to write you'd forgive me. Or yanno if you love me you'd do that too. _Tee hee_. Anywho... hopefully this will rekindle your interest and appease you until I get more up! A new year is upon us! Here's hoping it's chock full of inspiration! (Also there was no Beta/Proofreader for this so...excuse any errors. Again... the love and forgiveness.)

Happy New Year everyone!


	5. Letters in the Dark

Chapter Five

Letters in the Dark

The Audubon Bay Bridge was the landmark of St. Canard. Its four tall dark towers reached up to the sun and moon like dark spires trying to skewer the celestial display. Their likeness had been captured in photographs, magazines, sculptures, and art of every medium but one of the towers held something no one ever saw. Something that was hidden and protected, a secret lair of the city's self appointed guardian. The innards of this iconic structure had been twisted and crafted to house the highest end of electronics a vigilante could expect to acquire. At the moment however, the occupant of this marvelous locale was engrossed in the simplest… most basic of subjects: A bowl of milk.

Drake cupped the white liquid in his hands and quickly buried his eyes in its embrace. He allowed himself a low hiss as the milk started to diffuse the ache. He'd managed to find his way clear across the city and back to the tower but he had less answers than he would have liked… if he had any at all. He knew F.O.W.L. had kidnapped a woman and was transporting her, who was she? Was she important? Or just a victim of a smaller side plot? Either way she was safe, and he hoped he didn't have the "pleasure" of rescuing her again. He felt the milk drip through his fingers as he let out a miserable exhale. He was so tired of this endless vicious circle of following leads and coming up empty handed. There had to be something he was overlooking… something he was too close to see. A familiar sucking sound came from across the tower and he jumped to attention. In one fluid movement he drew his gas gun and snapped his arm up to aim at the entrance of the transportation tunnels as the milk poured off his face. After a tense moment, a pale yellow figure emerged and froze throwing its hands up in the air at the sight of Drake's unrelenting aim. He felt his brow knot.

"Honker?" his arm fell to his side and the boy shifted nervously.

"H-hello Mister Mallard." The nasally voice replied.

"What are you doing here?" He blinked. "Wait… how did you know how to get here?"

"Uh… G-Gosalyn told-"

The caped mallard sighed and put the gas gun down on the table loudly in irritation.

"Why am I not surprised…" he grumbled. "Well if you're looking for her she's not here."

"I-I know sir. I just… uh well… Gosalyn she…"

"Honker. Spit it out."

"She wanted me to check up on you."

Drake stared at the fidgeting child feeling an odd mixture of worry and joy twisting inside him.

"You've seen her??" He heard himself ask.

"U-uh… no. She asked me a while ago to… you know, look after you if she had to go away… and well, she is gone. Isn't she?"

"Yes." He dabbed at his saturated feathers careful to avoid his sensitive eyes, and even more careful to hide the bitterness he felt about the subject. "Yes she's gone."

"Pepper spray?"

An inquisitive eyebrow was raised at the kid who pushed up his red framed glasses meekly.

"…yeah."

"There's some on your shirt. I'd suggest you be cautious when you remove it." Honker pointed at the breast of the black jacket and Drake's eyes followed his finger. There was a large dark stain across his chest and he couldn't help but feel impressed.

"How did you know what it was?"

"Simple. Judging by the redness of your eyes I could ascertain that there was something used to irritate them, also knowing the best method to counter attack the sting is the base-like quality of milk. Naturally take into consideration your… uh… 'line of work' and it all came together pretty quickly actually."

"You're real observant there Honker… I wish I could borrow your brain for a night." The older man mused as he wiped at the stain with a towel.

"Mister Mallard, things… well they're really bad… aren't they?"

Drake shook his head in response.

"I can handle 'really bad'. What this is … is a disaster waiting to happen."

"But… you must have somewhere to start your investigation." Honker moved toward him warily and with great care as if he was afraid he'd cause everything in the tower to spontaneously combust if he looked at it. That just seemed to be the way things went with the young Muddlefoot. He was always meticulous.

"I thought I did." He confessed. "Let's just say it didn't work out to be as big of a lead as I thought." As the child neared he noticed the large stack of papers in his arms. "What are those?"

"O-oh…" he shifted them sheepishly. "…I noticed you hadn't picked up your mail or newspapers for the last couple days." The assorted letters and newspapers found their way gently onto the table. "What's more important was that my father noticed… and if he noticed…"

"Everyone would." Drake finished for him and raked his fingers through his hair feathers with a sigh. "Thanks Honker, I guess I should stop wasting all my time up here and go to the house once in awhile. Darkwing is supposed to be suspicious, not Drake Mallard."

"My reasoning exactly" Honker kept his eyes on the pile he'd just delivered. "I hope you don't mind that Gos told me how to get here."

"Nah it's alright just… don't go blabbing about it." He glanced at the headline of the daily at the top of the heap and lifted it with a sigh. The bold letters read: _Darkwing Duck Dead? Police Still Searching Bay for Body_. Had he really been neglecting his mail that long?

"Aren't you afraid?"

He let the paper fall limp in his hands as he glanced at the boy who was watching him with unmasked apprehension.

"Afraid? No. Frustrated is more like it." He responded blankly.

"But, what if something happens to you? What if you do find out what's happening and you find that guy again? What if you can't-"

"Honker, you don't understand." He said firmly as he closed his recovering eyes. There was an anxious silence, hungry and nervous, he wanted to understand. But he wasn't sure if he could explain. "I know I might not make it though this. But if I don't at least try…" he faltered and felt the smooth paper under his fingers his mind bringing up the image of an obituary bearing his name. "He knows everything." He opened his determined eyes to meet the boy's confused stare. "Negaduck, Duncan Glomgold… whoever he really is, he knows everything about me. He's the one who started all these terrible things that have been happening. I can't just let him go on hurting people."

"So why does it have to be just you? Why send away Morgana and Gizmoduck? Why don't you go to S.H.U.S.H.?"

"…have you ever known something so surely, felt something so strong but you didn't know why?"

"Uh… well sometimes when I eat yogurt my stomach…"

"That's not what I mean." He rubbed his temples and tried to make sense of what he was saying himself. "It has to be me. I have to do this; no one else will be able to end this…"

"No I don't recall ever feeling like that. Sorry Mister Mallard."

"I didn't think so." He shook his head lightly with a disgusted groan before he returned his attention back to the young boy. "So… has anyone at school bugged you about where Gosalyn is?"

"No in fact no one has said anything at all about her. I think Morgana may have gotten to them… you know…" Honker wiggled his fingers in a magical fashion.

A small smile spread across his bill.

"She probably did, she's got more insight than I do half the time…" The smile faded as he remembered her face. The cold sting inside him coming in full force to remind him that he was alone **…** just like Negaduck planned he had no doubt.

"Don't worry about the mail sir." The boy's voice cut through his brooding. "I'll be sure to bring it in for you. We do have a key to the front door after all." He admitted with a hint of shame. "That way you can keep your focus on what you have to do and I can keep my promise to Gosalyn."

The hero took in the child thoughtfully. No. No, he thought, he may not have his family, or his partners, but he wasn't alone. Negaduck couldn't have anticipated aide from such an unlikely source and if he could think of more people in his life like Honker… he was sure to feel less like the world was against him. He nodded slowly.

"Okay. That sounds like a good plan Honk."

"Good, then I'll be in to check on you tomorrow. I'll see if I can dig up any information on what's going on for you too. You can find just about anything on the Internet if you know how to look properly." He said surely as he started back toward the tunnel.

"I don't expect you to find much but I appreciate the offer."

"Can't hurt to try, and uh… be careful out there okay? You're not indestructible."

"…I know."

The trigger was hit and as sudden as he had come, Honker had left. Drake let out a small noisy exhale as he folded the newspaper back up. He had to do something, had to figure something out. A lead. A clue. Hell even a red herring he just needed something to use as a springboard. He tossed the newspaper angrily back on the stack and it caused the fragile pile to spill over and tile out across the surface like dominos. All the headlines splayed the table's surface but one stood out. For a moment all he could do was stare before he blinked and brushed one of the papers aside to find a more recent periodical or more specifically a photograph. His eyes hung on the image before they shifted to the text below only to make his throat tighten upon reading it.

With great care he pulled the newspaper out of the mess and read the name again. The name that had been all but forgotten in the turmoil of the last few months… days… and there it was, along with a face he barely recognized. Elmo. Elmo Sputterspark. Here it was. This was his chance. This was his lead, his clue, he could feel it. He could find out something no matter how small… but it would be something! He tore his eyes away from the peaceful looking mug shot to the article beside it and instantly his heart fell into the pit of his stomach. "Elmo Sputterspark, murderer. Condemned to execution…" Drake's panic was only furthered to see the date he was to be exterminated on was today. Without a moment's hesitation he shot to his feet and ran to the Ratcatcher tying his mask firmly to his face. Maybe he wasn't too late… maybe he might still have a chance to get his answers. As he mounted the bike one thought was repeating in his head.

"Please let me find him."

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"INCOMING!"

The clatter of a hockey puck was accented by metallic "pings" and "clanks" as it ricocheted along the lined up suits of armor keeping guard of the musty shadows. She winced when the puck's journey ended with a smash and her pig tails were tugged on with angry squeaking. She waved her hand over her head freeing the red locks from the little bats and their grip.

"Calm down I'll fix it! Stop being babies you guys!" She reprimanded them as she padded down the hall and to where the ominous crash had come from.

In reality she was probably angrier with herself then Eek and Squeak were. She knew better than to play hockey indoors but… she needed to distract herself. As the armored figures dwindled, the final resting place of her puck revealed itself to be through an open door. Many things had been said about Gosalyn Mallard. Some called her a brat, a nuisance, spirited, troubled, bright, but among all the adjectives that sprung to mind one that never came up was: cowardly. However, with her bill touched by only the slightest bit of darkness from the stale air where her objective had lead her… she was tempted to add it to the list. The atmosphere felt heavier, thicker in this room and it made her feel the urge to abandon the puck and run back upstairs to hide under the covers of the first bed she found. The sound of flapping approached as her self-appointed caretakers caught up with her.

Standing in front of this door looking up at a pair of bats, knowing the hall behind her was home to an army of disfigured suits of armor and cobwebs thicker than cotton candy she regained her wits. She couldn't be afraid of an empty, dark room. She puffed up importantly. After all she'd been through, was she finally going to be defeated by such a silly thing? Even if it was… in a big… monster inhabited… castle… where doors decided to change their mind as to what was on the other side of them at random. Stop thinking like that! She shook sense back into her head and marched into the room pausing to squeeze her eyes shut as soon as her foot hit the carpet. The castle's usual creaking greeted her. No screaming alarms, or menacing growls. She slowly opened an eye and didn't see any fangs or magically charging fingers. With a victorious exhale she dusted herself off and turned back to the doorway where the silhouettes of the bats still hung in the air.

"C'mon are you bats or chickens in leather jackets, it's only sinister and ominous in here!"

The bats squeaked in a 'not on your life' manner and proceeded to stay put. With a sigh Gosalyn went about trying to find the origin of the crash and her lost plaything. The air seemed to harbor pockets of dust that just her presence seemed to disrupt and cause to explode… and though she couldn't see herself she was sure she'd come out looking like she'd rolled around in an ashtray. Her eyes finally adjusted to the dim candle light from the hall and her heart sunk into her high-topped sneakers. A grim looking gargoyle clung to a bookshelf and sadly had been completely decapitated… by a hockey puck. She swallowed thickly as her eyes found the snarling head and her puck lying nearby. A rustle of fluttering wings and panicked squeaking ruffled her hair as her 'fearless' babysitters inspected the damage.

"…it's not that bad. I bet some Wacky Glue could fix this up just like new." Her voice sounded less sure then she had hoped and in response one of the beast's fangs broke off seemingly of its own volition.

Eek and Squeak, who were apparently eternal pessimists, continued to carry on as if the world had only a precious few moments to keep spinning. Gosalyn frowned at the head and turned it over in her hands. There was something about this statue that seemed strange… the mouth was hollow. She squinted up at the remaining body and could see the neck was also carved out. If she narrowed her eyes and stood on the very tips of her toes she could barely make out the end of what looked like a rolled up piece of paper. Her curiosity piqued she shifted the shelves contents and started climbing the bookcase to investigate, much to the horror of her audience.

The dust scratched against her fingertips as she carefully scaled the structure that creaked and groaned under her weight. It seemed only seconds before she was within reach, she clung to the wood with one hand as the other strained to grab the paper. Her fingers slid inside the stone creature and were surprised to feel a large stack of rolled documents. Just what had she found? Treasure maps? Texts depicting gruesome tales? Her feathers stood on end in excitement as her grasping finally was rewarded with a fragile cylinder sliding into her grip. A smile spread across her face before the door slammed shut with an earsplitting _bang_ and her hold on the shelf gave out.

There was a moment when all she was aware of was the air rushing past her in the darkness until she crashed to the floor with a yelp. She regained her bearings, sprawled out on her back staring up toward the darkened ceiling. Frenzied squeaking and chirping came from the other side of the closed door only confirming the fact that she was in here alone… or was she? The darkness seemed to swell and shift around her and she felt her heart race. Should she move? Should she play possum? Before she could reach an answer the shadows were disrupted by the demonic red glow of a large red eye. In a split second she was on her feet and running to the door. The knob under her hand wouldn't turn no matter how hard she turned it.

With a gulp she gave up on getting away and turned slowly to press her back firmly against the wood. The eye was staring her down, unblinking.

"I-I uh… well… hello, first of all. H-how are you?" She said as calmly she could.

"What are you doing in here?" snarled the monstrous voice of Morgana's father.

"I was looking for my…."

"You were snooping around." He interrupted her grimly.

"No, really I didn't mean to I just-"

"You Normals are all the same" growled the shadowed ghoul as he started to slowly advance on her. "You bring a vile stench into my castle… and break artifacts worth more than your pathetic life. Your kind are only tolerable as corpses."

"Hey!" She puffed up angrily. "I don't stink! Maybe you're smelling yourself gramps! And whaddya talkin' about you don't even know me you old cobweb brain! I'm Gosalyn Mallard, zombie slayer! And if you mess with me you'll be sorry!"

In a swish of darkness he was towering over her, his eyes boring right into hers with a burning hatred, but she wasn't even tempted to look away. He couldn't hurt her… right? His clawed hand swiped through the old air and snatched the paper out of her hand.

"I believe it is you… who will be sorry, Normal."

Without warning the door behind her gave way and she stumbled back into a warm body, squinting at the sudden reintroduction to light. After a few blinks to regain herself she looked up to see Morgana and her pounding heart started to calm. The sorceress's eyes were narrowed and a harsh scowl was fixed on her face. Slowly Gosalyn looked back to where she had emerged from. The tall form of Moloculo stood steadfast half bathed in shadows as his glare moved from the girl to his daughter. She tried to stifle the sigh of relief that threatened to stream out of her as her gaze fell on the paper that was captive in the ghoul's gangrenous grip. If she strained her eyes she could make out the traces of ink bleeding through the parchment… it looked like a letter. The hand stuffed the paper in a pocket and her eyes danced up to his to see a heartfelt glower. She backed up instinctively only moving in closer to the woman behind her. A warm hand put itself on her shoulder as Morgana's voice filled the silence.

"Don't you have something more important to do than lurk in the shadows father?"

"The creature was nosing through my library."

"Well she's not anymore. And I'm certain she meant no harm… isn't that right, Gosalyn?" She nodded obediently. "See? Now that she knows, she'll stay out."

"I'd rather have her out altogether or at least in the dungeon where her kind belongs."

"Eek, Squeak, take Gosalyn back to my room please." The bats tugged on her shirt urgently and she started slowly back toward the main foyer.

There was something in the way Morgana was looking at her father that didn't settle right with her. Well… apart from the whole 'I hope you die in a fire' glint in her eyes. Much to her attendants dismay the moment she had reached the next room she ducked down beside the door shielding herself from sight to eavesdrop. The bats nervously fluttered making their wing beats echo around as if they were pterodactyls. She shot her hands out and grabbed them clean out of the air to silence them and held her breath hoping the duo down the hall hadn't noticed.

"Morgana I will not tolerate that slime scumming up my castle much longer…" growled the unmistakable voice of Moloculo.

"Oh please," Scoffed the woman's voice. "And what will you do? Glare at her until she leaves?"

"It would be worth a try."

"That's enough, look I have something I need you to do for me."

"Is that so? How charming, I thought you were playing the superiority card my dear."

"Will you please stop being a beast for one second?" She sighed in exasperation. "I need you to cast a spell on this for me."

Gosalyn blinked and peered around the corner carefully to try and get a glimpse of what the object was. From where she sat she could only make out a bit of silver glinting in the pale palm of the witch's hand. It looked kind of like…

"A key?" Moloculo asked curiously.

"I want you to link it to its home lock. Like you did with the key to my bedroom closet when I left."

She saw the old man's spine stiffen and his eyes narrow at the key bitterly.

"I will do no such thing."

"Why?" she challenged him. "You want Gosalyn to leave and if you do this we can go whenever we like."

"You've invaded upon my patience and hospitality and I will not be ordered around as if I were your subordinate." He snapped.

"I'm not ordering you around!" She shot back angrily. "I was asking you for a favor that would get you what you want!"

"Asking me? Hah, well I reserve the right to refuse, which I am executing."

"Daddy… please." She requested softly as she held the key out to him.

Despite the distance that separated her from the two Macabres, Gosalyn could feel the heaviness between them. Something told her that they had been close… and something happened to rip them apart, something neither of them wanted to forgive it seemed. Her eyes hung on Moloculo as he fixed his stony features as he looked at the key. There was something familiar in the way his eyes betrayed him. There was pain there… conflict. She couldn't help but notice how his hand was pressed protectively against the pocket he'd put the letter in. Something inside her suspected she knew who it was addressed to now and why he didn't want her to see it. He wanted to help Morgana… she could see it, and if this key was from their house… would that mean it would open a door back home? It had been days since they'd come here. And nothing had happened, the silence was eating her alive. She felt her heart beating in her throat as she held her breath anxiously. Please, she thought to herself, please do it.

"No."

Her heart sunk back into her chest at the firmness of the small word. She should have known better than to think this mean old monster would help them. Morgana's face twisted to reflect the same thing. The woman's hand closed around the key angrily and her emerald eyes narrowed.

"Fine. I'll find a way to do it without your help then." She growled. "No matter what you do… You can't keep me here." With a final glare Morgana turned on her heel and stormed away. Surprisingly in a different direction from where she currently watched.

The hard hearted Moloculo hung back glowering after his daughter for a moment before he stalked down the hall himself… only he was headed right for her. But that look in his eyes… she couldn't forget it. There was no urge to run as the ghoul approached and ignored her presence completely as he passed. He had only taken two steps beyond where she sat when her voice dislodged itself.

"It was for her wasn't it?" She asked and he halted. "That letter… it was for Morgana. What about the other ones in that statue? Were they all for her?"

Slowly, very slowly, he turned to face her with every ounce of kindness vacant from his features as if they had never had been there at all. But she wasn't afraid despite how terrifying he truly was.

"If you desecrate my library with your presence again Normal… I swear on Beelzebub's pitchfork that you will never leave this castle alive."

"…can I take that as a yes?" She peeped which resulted in a throaty growl and an angry gait down the remaining bit of hall. In the wake of Moloculo the castle seemed quieter than ever to the duckling who finally released the flailing bats. Long after he'd gone she stared at where he'd been. He was a mystery to her. One she felt the sudden burning urge to solve.

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Darkwing Duck and all related characters are © Disney

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Chapter five! Yay! Can you smell disaster in the air? It's a' brewin'.

And now here is where I do something I rarely do. I be pimpin' yo. If you find yourself bored in between my monstrous bouts of silence I implore you to check out DarkwingPsycho's _The Ties That Bind_. She's a fabulous storyteller and Ariana is an equally fabulous character. Check it out. Give it shot. GIVE HER SOME LOVE. She deserves it

**Thanks for readin' guys! You know I love ya!**

And to give fair warning next chapter… things get ugly.


	6. Judge, Jury, and Executioner

Chapter Six

Judge, Jury, and Executioner

The squeal of halting tires reverberated off the high walls of St. Canard's maximum security prison. It was a monument of authority, a warning to those who would tempt justice and morality and he appreciated its imposing nature… even if most of the city's officials believed he deserved a padded cell of his own in there. Darkwing pulled the helmet off his head and stared at the shadowed structure, his gaze sliding along the multitude of windows. It was dark. A brief glimpse over his shoulder revealed enough vehicles to accommodate a night staff. Slowly his eyes moved back to the blackened panes. Still, dark, quiet, not a single glimmer of light was coming from inside… it didn't bode well. He stashed the Ratcatcher between two vans and made his way toward the impressive building's entrance. The usual buzzing of the electronic lock on the reinforced door was all but silent as he approached. He reached out and pushed the door with two fingers and it swung lazily open as if he was expected, as if it was welcoming the winter air inside with him. Something was definitely wrong here. His ears strained to hear anything that might give him a clue as to what was happening in the bowels of the building as he held his position at the door. Nothing answered. It was a foreboding stillness that seemed to saturate the air and sucked the hushed sounds of the world into oblivion. His fingers tugged at his gas gun putting it firmly in his palm quietly, as his eyes inspected the sinister corridor before him. This was bad, how bad he didn't know. But he was about to find out. He shifted into the hall, the darkness swallowing him instantly, the soft stealthy footfalls he produced barely registered in the stagnant air.

The smooth wall slid along his back as he crept along slowly, he couldn't be reckless here. Was this a prison break? A routine evacuation? Sabotage or… something else entirely? His eyes adjusted to the shadows and the structure panned out before him, a labyrinth of halls and rooms. His fingers curled around the edge of the wall and he paused. He didn't know what was happening, didn't have a clue where he was going but… he glanced back at the door. It was a distant spec of light at the end of the passage now. He set his jaw and hardened his resolve. There was no turning back, this was all he had. He had to push ahead, he had to be sure he got to Elmo before anyone else did, unless they already had. A frown pulled on his face as his eyes trained along the darkened lights overhead, from the looks of it… someone already had. This could be another lead Duncan was trying to rip out of his reach. Another chance to get a step up on his tormentor that was all too quickly being wrenched out of his grip. His anxiety and guarded fury propelled him away from his cover and around the corner blindly where he stopped and braced himself for an attack. He stood poised in the dark with his teeth mashed painfully against one another. After a moment the only thing to happen was that he began to feel incredibly foolish as nothing rushed to greet him. A strained breath escaped him to echo lightly down the hall when a sudden flicker lit up the mouth of the shadows ahead of him. He stood stock still staring ahead intently, willing the flash to come again… and it did.

Another flicker lit up a doorway near the end of the tauntingly long passage and its light died after just a moment only to rekindle again briefly. Darkwing realized he was gripping his gun so hard he was beginning to lose feeling in his fingers and forced his hand to relax. He wasn't getting anywhere milling around watching lights flicker, he told himself as he began his steady careful stride toward the blinking room. Each door he passed was open, yet silent. His heart was betraying his calm exterior. Anxiety threatened to consume him as well as fear. His dreams of walking down similar hallways to jeers and madmen's cries seemed to be echoing in his head in place of the gentle rushing of the faint wind that traveled through the main doors. He wasn't crazy. His eyes locked on the flickering door purposefully. He wouldn't be ruled by his nightmares, of what might have happened before he wound up at that orphanage. There was too much at stake to allow himself to be scared, but his saliva seemed to turn to ash in his mouth no matter how frequently he reminded himself. As he reached the halfway point he encountered a wall of stench that made him gag in spite of himself, and his eyes started to water. He brought his cape up to cover his mouth and nostrils as he composed himself. The strongest scent he could determine was the rank odor of burnt hair… but it wasn't just that… it was as if the levels of stink were the very tissues of a body itself. His already queasy stomach requested to abandon ship, but he swallowed his sickness and pressed on. The door was close now, close enough to hear that crackling sound that accompanied the flashes of light. It was electricity. His eyes lifted to the darkened lamps overhead once more… something or someone had probably severed a wire. He didn't want to go striding in there quickly if that was the case. His boot collided with something and he nearly toppled over. He caught himself on the wall removing his protective sheath between the world and his nose. The smell was enough to make his eyes water and he didn't need to look down to know what he'd tripped over. The light flickered again and he swallowed thickly as he kept his gaze away from the shadowed forms on the floor. _Too late, I'm too late, damn it. _He pushed himself off the wall and took a livid stride toward the door. He wasn't beaten yet. Maneuvering through the scorched minefield with the disgusting odor invading his senses. He reached the portal and snapped his gun up to aim at the darkness before him. Any second now that light would flash. And he'd know.

The spark came again and the room was illuminated for an instant, his eyes scanning the room swiftly before they were robbed of the light once more. It was a small courtroom. Two desks, one podium, in a space that would probably fit fifty people comfortably. A large portion of the ceiling tiles had been ripped down and were smashed on the floor, the thick severed wire hanging from the hole like a dazed python. There were at least five bodies in there, none that he could see were still breathing. He waited in the darkness… waited for the flicker again. And it came, but his eyes caught something they had missed. His heart stopped and his sickness bubbled even stronger in his gut. A figure was watching him. Alone, and nearly indistinguishable from the twisted shapes in the dark but the hazy blue eyes seemed to remain visible now that he knew where to look. It was a face he knew he recognized.

"…Are you Elmo Sputterspark?" His voice came to his ears oddly, as if he had forgotten what it had sounded like. His company made no response, just a lazy blink. Darkwing's feet seemed to know what to do as they slid into the room and started cautiously toward the figure that he held in his gun's sights. "Who are you?" He growled. Answer. Answer; just tell me, he pleaded in his head. This all can't have been for nothing, he'd wasted enough time other places. Let this one be real. The spark came again and with a sudden hollowness he noticed the rodent's eyes had moved away from him to something… or someone behind him. A smile crept across the inmate's face.

"Green light."

A whistling of something heavy cutting through the air came from over his shoulder and with a sudden painful abruptness the world went black.

--

The world crept back slowly, one tiny aspect at a time. The first being pain. There was a white hot blossom of it spilling out of the side of his skull; he could feel sticky rivers finding their way through his feathers from the spot. He tried to lift a hand to the wound but encountered a new problem and little bit more of his wits came to him. He was bound, disturbingly tight to a chair. His arms, legs, even his chest had been strapped in to the point of breaking the bones they pressed against. Taking a stabbing gasp of air his eyes opened only to be greeted by a different shade of darkness. Someone had put a bag on his head. A sharp rapping of a gavel stung his aching head like a jackhammer but the voice that spoke next was perhaps even more unwelcome.

"Ladies and Gentlemice, we are gathered here today to snicker superiorly at the final pleas and whining, maybe even broken sobbing of one: Darkwing Duck."

He felt what little color was in his face drain completely as the familiar voice continued.

"You hear me under there duckie?" the gavel knocked on his head smartly and he hissed in pain. "Good good. You are charged with being a burden, a pest, a transvestite, a nuisance, a party pooper, a sore loser, a doctor in square-ology, and… something else… what was it…" a lengthy dramatic pause filled the speech before the voice took a gravely serious tone. "…ohh yes, Murder. How could I forget? How does the defense plea?"

Darkwing pulled against his restraints and found he was rather unfit to question or defend himself as his bill was sealed shut with a liberal amount of duct tape. An impatient tapping of fingers sounded from where the "Judge's" voice came from.

"WELL? Megs, that's your cue."

Dark felt a shift in the air beside him and he stopped struggling in pure shock. Someone had been standing there this whole time… and he only had one guess as to who it was.

"Oh." Responded a disconnected male voice he'd heard mention the color of a light what felt like eons ago.

"…SO? How do you plea?" Prompted the eerie voice again, this time with irritation.

"…you're talking to me now?"

"Well HE can't answer me! We tied his big fat mouth shut remember?!"

"Oh, you want me to untie him?" The placid voice inquired, obviously puzzled.

"NO!" the gavel smashed a firm note through the room. "Guilty! THAT'S what you were SUPPOSED to say 'Guilty'!"

"Guilt-"

"Well it's too late now I've said it. You had your chance and now it's gone. Onto the sentencing…" The air was disturbed again as there was a jingling sound nearing him. "…your fate has been decided while you were taking your power nap, lucky you. Death. Death by electrocution."

A hand seized the fabric that encased his head and with a brutal tug he was reunited with a nightmare he had believed was long gone. The jester's shattered eyes were crinkled with his smile.

"Do you have any final words of wisdom, idle threats, or whimpering noises to share with us o' champion of justice?" Quackerjack asked through his monstrous grin.

He had an entire encyclopedia of things to say but it all came out as livid mumbling. The sad retort seemed to be too much for the clown as he threw his head back in chilling laughter, allowing Dark the opportunity to notice the slight twinge of green to the beast's feathers. Just as he'd dreamt it looked. Was this a dream too? He pulled on the thick restraints with the faintest illusion of hope only to find them sturdy and real. Crap. Quackerjack's attention slid to the tall rat that was standing beside the captive crime fighter watching on like a perplexed spectator.

"You suppose any of that was for you, Elmo?"

Darkwing felt his throat tighten. He was Elmo, he had figured as much before. He was working with Quackerjack, but… Quackerjack was dead. The rat slipped his calm gaze to his accomplice but there was darkness in the cloudy depths. The rodent's fingers flexed oddly and their tips flared like a livewire. Dark couldn't help but stare as the electricity danced between the slender blackened fingers like the inside of a plasma lamp.

"I'm not Elmo." The rat informed him darkly, the serene tone he had held yielding to something twisted and bitter.

"Of course, not anymore… you're Megavolt now right?" Quackerjack glanced at Dark with a taunting nudge. "Off his rocker this one." He whispered mockingly to his captive.

Dark just scowled, it was all he could do. When the jester returned his gaze to his identity challenged cohort his eyes took in the room desperately. There had to be something, Megavolt's electricity had lit up the room enough for him to find… something, right? He looked at the sturdy bonds that were attached to the even sturdier chair that held him. He wouldn't be able to get much wiggle room without something to maybe pry the tiniest inch between his arm and the leather. Quickly his eyes darted around the room again. A ruler, a knife, a paperclip there had to be SOME--

"There's no escaping this time Drakey." Announced Quackerjack snidely.

Dark turned to glare at him. A pleased smile was on that wicked face and his arms were folded neatly across his chest, the tattered ends of his straight jacket hanging lazily down his sides. Those damned bucked teeth framing that condescending smile. This, he finally concluded, was very bad.

"Megavolt, why don't you give our old friend here a taste of your joy buzzer?"

The rat contracted his limber digits and the room danced with even more light. It was impossible but it looked like the voltage was spilling out of his fingers. With a slow steady movement Megavolt pointed at him. The reaction was instantaneous. The electricity flew at him faster than a heartbeat and assaulted him with pure searing agony. The gold pendant resting around his neck burned the worst. As quickly as it had started it stopped and he finally heard his echoed scream as his body convulsed and his head collapsed to rest his chin on his chest. His labored breathing filled his ears as did laughter. But he could block that out when he looked at his trembling hands.

"Quite the punch he's got there eh Darkie?" A clammy hand tweaked his bill harshly but he didn't have the strength to even look at his tormentors.

In the dull hum that filled his ears and the pounding of his own panicked heart a new sound filled his ears. It was a whistle. Not one made by a train or anything other than a mouth with a tune to sing without words. Apparently performed by someone a touch tone-deaf, maybe with their own eagerness to compose, he figured.Itwasn't coming from either of his executioners; it was drilling through the walls in his psyche pouring in through the cracks that had formed. The chipper tune floated through his mind like a memory… he blinked slowly. That's what it was… wasn't it? A memory he'd forgotten. He concentrated on the sound, he could almost recall what the whistler looked like… it was a man… in a lab coat…

As if a failsafe switch had been flicked in his brain, a white hot streak of agony ripped through his head. The reaction was so strong he could barely stay conscious. A terrible sickness lurched inside him and muscled its way to his mouth. What he had managed to avoid on the roof of the F.O.W.L building was inescapable now and he felt the thick, oily liquid coat his tongue with a gag. Unable to open his mouth to allow it an exit it sought out its own and trickled out of the corners of his mouth and the tip of his bill. Barely able to see through the pain he could hardly register that it was viscous black ooze. It dribbled out of the cracks it could find and dripped onto his knees as he watched on in a helpless daze. The whistling was gone… and he had no desire to try to call it back least he be faced with more of… whatever this was. It looked like motor oil with the rainbow like sheen of gasoline though it smelled like neither… more like… almonds? A finger covered in scorched black fur wiped his mouth and he weakly raised his eyes to watch the rat crouch in front of him. The creature's tepid eyes were focused on the substance he'd transferred to his own hand and was rolling it between his fingers curiously.

"I thought they couldn't get this stuff to work…" he commented lightly to himself and Darkwing's brow wrinkled in suspicion.

"Sparky! Don't play with his barf!" Groaned Quackerjack, who by the looks of it had been searching the room for a bludgeon. He'd found one in the form of the statue of Justice… cute.

The rodent's eyes lost their mild indifference as they flared with anger and the substance on his fingers evaporated with a blaze of voltage. Within seconds he was on his feet and rounding on the jester the livid bolts splaying from his form like ill tempered snakes.

"_Don't call me 'Sparky'_!" He shrieked and Darkwing had to close his eyes to block out the bright light that made his brain ache anew.

"Sorry… sorrrry…" The clown retorted cautiously, and he could hear the uncertainty in his voice. Darkwing knew he was debating on whether or not he should rethink his partnership and dissolve it with a neat little blunt force trauma. Ultimately he decided against it as his voice came again. "I forgot… but, let's not forget we've got a job to do huh? You owe the Boss now, and the Boss wants to get rid of him. So… let's surprise him huh? Whaddya say Megavolt?"

There was no verbal answer just another onslaught of torture as the electrical current seized him again. It felt like he was being set on fire from the inside out. He couldn't scream, he choked on the gunk in his mouth instead. His senses were being stripped away like brittle layers of wallpaper under a utility knife. It was over. He had failed before he even got anywhere. No answers, no victory, no hope no… pain? The excruciating attack had stopped and he couldn't even begin to guess why. His eyes didn't seem to want to work… nor did his ears. He felt his head loll uselessly back to rest his chin on his chest. After what must have been years he heard a vague sound that was his own breath coming in shaky staccato. After a few sluggish blinks the veil of darkness started to lift from his vision and he felt someone shaking him. Someone with cold… metal hands? He blinked again and a voice filtered in through his ringing ears.

"-an you hear me Wingy?"

With every scrap of strength he could muster he lifted his head and his hazy vision met an iridescent purple visor fixed into a spotless white helmet. Gizmoduck. He heard himself groan, and with a relieved smile the armored duck tore the restraints away from him effortlessly. Dark forced his quavering hand to start removing the binding from his bill and he dully noticed that Gizmoduck had been babbling the entire time.

"Lucky thing S.H.U.S.H. called me in when they did! I thought you were a goner when I saw you and boy did those miscreants do a number on you eh? Not to worry Darkwing I sent them on the run! I'll catch up to them and make sure they answer for this but, we've got to get you out of here first. Back up will be here any minute and if they find you here-what the devil were you thinking coming here alone anyway?! I TOLD you I'd help you didn't I? Unless you wanted to-"

Finally having his mouth free Darkwing leaned over the arm of the chair and spit the contents of his mouth onto the dirty tiled floor. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

"-throw up all… what the heck is that anyway? Did they pump you full of something? Do you need an ambulance? An aspirin? A-"

"Gizmoduck-" He started shortly as he glared at the hero.

"Oh NOW you remember my name when I save your tail feathers but not before you initiate your suicide-"

"…shut up." He finished. In return the duck's mouth clamped closed obediently almost like a reprimanded puppy. Dark put his hand over the bloody lump on his head with a hiss and looked at the red mess that rubbed off on his glove. Breathing was easier now, and he could focus on stationary objects again. He sucked on the vile taste in his mouth for a moment before he locked his eyes on his companion lividly. "Where did they go?"

"Darkwing listen," Gizmoduck started carefully with a slow shake of his head. "This is a big deal okay? J. Gander Hooter asked me personally to seek out these fugitives. I don't think it would be wise for you to try to apprehend them yourself given your… er… current situation. I am even under orders not to aid you in any searches you might try behind their backs, I could get in a lot of trouble if they find out I'm helping you-"

"Then don't." Darkwing snapped angrily and got clumsily to his feet, gripping the chair to steady himself. His head was reeling and his stomach bubbling like it was filled with acid but he'd be damned if he was going to stick around for a lecture. If he could only coax his body to move fluidly, that is. Wincing lightly at the pain that coursed through him he glanced around the room. There were bodies on the floor. He could see them now as the lights were allowed a dim glow. The generator must have begun to make some sluggish attempt to power the place. His eyes hung on the closest heap decked out in a prison guard uniform clean, pressed and worn so proudly. Silence pressed in all around him and he glanced back at the armored duck who was frowning at him sternly. He could almost read the mallard's mind. Words like, 'ungrateful', 'arrogant', and 'suicidal' were probably colliding with one another in a tizzy in his head. His vision returning to its usual keen state he could just make out Fenton's eyes through the purple visor, they were narrowed in annoyance. "I mean it." He growled irritably and pushing himself forward hobbled a few steps toward the door. It was like walking on stilts made of Jell-o, but they'd get steady again… he just had to walk it off. "I don't need anyone getting dragged back into this. I don't need your help."

"Oh really?" Gizmoduck stated with a slap of sarcasm as he straightened up.

"Yes." He barked in retort but stumbled barely able himself steady. His head felt like a bullet train was running circles through it… he felt his knees wobble but stiffened them by pure will.

"Did you ever stop to think that maybe, you know, just for two seconds, that this wasn't just about you? I have a duty, a-"

"Oh would you can it!" He groaned.

An explosion of sound tore through the room and he couldn't help but cover his ears, his vision darkening in agony. The roar of an engine and a screeching tire filled every ounce of air and before he could register what this meant he was seized by robotic arms. Without a moment to resist he was plucked off the floor like a daisy from the grass and thrown over one metallic shoulder. For a moment all Darkwing could do was stare at the room he now towered over before he snarled and started struggling. He sent an angry elbow at the duck's helmet as he wheeled out into the hall.

"Put me down you moron!" He flared.

"Not until I am certain you have vacated the area." Giz leaned his head away from another elbow. "Listen Drake, I don't expect you to thank me—though by all accounts you SHOULD. I don't even mind your crankiness! But I'm not going to sit back and watch things deteriorate. If you don't respect my devotion to the law-"

"I don't even respect YOU-" Dark started venomously as he tried to worm out of the suit's grip, the hallways of the prison zooming by around them. "-What makes you think I'd respect-"

"-THEN…" Giz continued loudly. "…just accept that I am keeping my word to a certain little red head. She made me swear to assist you and I will."

"Gosalyn isn't here." He fumed.

"By whose say?"

"SHUT UP!" He pounded his fist into the armor beneath him vehemently. "Just shut up and put me down! I don't want your help or your bullshit, just tell me what direction Quackerjack and Megavolt took off in!"

The door to outside was flung open forcefully and the icy cold night washed over them. Darkwing opened his mouth to demand to be put down once more but found himself deposited roughly on the concrete before he could even take a breath. His legs instantly gave out and he hacked lightly as he sat on the pavement. His eyes slid lividly to the hero only to find the helmeted head turned to the prison. He had expected to be scowled at or laughed at, at the very least. Gritting his teeth he got back to his feet sloppily his blood pounding through his veins like fire.

"I know why you're pushing everyone away…" The unmasked voice of Fenton Crackshell interrupted suddenly. It caught his attention more efficiently than the usual boisterous tones the mallard used in his hero persona. The visor turned back to look at him. "You want to protect them."

"I don't have time for this." He grunted as he started to stagger away.

"But this exactly what he wants Drake. Look at what happened in there! I think the odds are pretty good that he set this up knowing that you'd find your way here. Everyone in there was dead already, why the hell would they wait around if they didn't expect you to show up? Duncan probably knew you'd be here alone and look what happened, if I hadn't have hurried over-"

"Thank you Gizmoduck for that stirring little epilogue." He grumbled. "But I won't be so sloppy next time, next time I'll-"

"Next time you could be dead." Fenton interrupted. "Next time you should call me."

Darkwing wheeled around to glare at the battle tank.

"I DON'T need your help!" he fumed.

"What you need is a boot to the head you stubborn little-"

The wailing of police sirens cut through the quarrel and Darkwing's eyes darted to the reflection of their lights bouncing off the distant windows. His attention snapped back to Gizmoduck who had turned to the structure and was rolling dutifully back toward it.

"Where did they go?!" Dark shrieked at him. "GODDAMN IT TELL ME!"

"You better get out of here fast. Seven more squad cars are on their way." Gizmoduck responded calmly as he was swallowed by the doors.

Silently seething to himself the vigilante scrambled to where he'd hidden his motorcycle. The lack of answers and the prospect of new foes and old cavorting against him ran through his head like a demented tune from an organ grinder. A faint memory of a whistled melody joined the chaos and the bike exploded into life as he tore out of the facility's parking lot. He weaved through the oncoming patrol cars leaving them quickly behind and his scowl hardened on his face as he bitterly realized he was on the brink of the most dangerous fight of his life.

--

Darkwing Duck and all related characters are (c) Disney

--

I realized today, with slight wave of horror that after a year this story only has 6 chapters. This is unacceptable.

Anyway, update for you. Hope it was worth the wait. Thanks for reading and sticking around for gosh... forever(?) for these things. Also thank you and welcome to new readers, where ever may have come from you make me happy. :D Also thanks again to Vaporshi for making my drivel less painful to your eyes.


	7. Blue Eyes

Chapter Seven

Blue Eyes

S.H.U.S.H. headquarters was alive with activity. News crews were set up on every available patch of concrete they could find as their field reporters hastily fixed their appearances in the limited reflection of their gaudy vans' side view mirrors. It was like observing an abstract display of cholesterol laden arteries the way they were all crammed together. J. Gander Hooter watched them from a window in the passage leading to his office. It was amazing to him how the media never responded to good news with this level of enthusiasm. Only the worst of the worst got this kind of coverage, this carnage was too delicious for all the jackals and vultures down there to resist. All of them were fear mongering vipers in their fancy suits and plastered on smiles. His eyes drifted skyward with a sigh. He only wished the city would cut off the supply of atrocities that fed these scavengers, but it was like wishing the moon was made of cheese. He had to speak to them eventually, the people had a right to know as they liked to remind him every time he got within shouting distance. Though, he reasoned with himself as his heels clicked on the polished floor, though he ALSO had a right to know and at the moment he had very little information to, in fact, know. It was as if there was a portal to hell opening under their very feet, and he was stumbling in the dark to find it and force it closed before more demons came spilling out, to no avail.

But for all this commotion and upped security to keep the press at bay, somehow she had still managed to gain access not only to the facility but to his very office. He had arrived only to be informed at the front desk that she was waiting for him . The thought entered his head that he'd be better off dealing with the media but he resigned to meet with her first. After all, he was in charge, as unpleasant as she was, she was just a civilian. The door to his office was ajar and he sidled in at his usual pace, despite the instant glare that greeted him. In a smart figure hugging pin striped pant suit she sat in the "hot seat" across from his desk like a snake poised to strike. He had interrogated his faulty agents in that chair so frequently and so effectively that most people avoided looking at it in fear that it would unleash his wrath on them with just the briefest glance. She, however, sat in it like she owned it. He had barely crossed the threshold before her sharp voice pierced the air.

"So the prison's been wiped out I hear? Were those guards under your 'brilliant' protection just as I was?"

Hooter continued on to his own seat and composed himself mentally before he met her glare with as much inner calm as he could muster. There were a precious few people in this world that could get under his skin as quickly and deeply as this young woman. He would be damned if he would let her see that.

"I was not expecting to see you here Isabella. I do hope your accommodations and bodyguards are keeping your mind at ease." It was hardly a question. More of a buffer of mundane small talk to counter her pulsing aggression.

"The hotel's a dive and your men are slobs. I'm sure if I had stayed there any longer I'd have met the same sticky end as those poor working saps at 'the safest structure in Saint Canard' as you so penned your bloodbath penitentiary."

"Well thank heavens for your intuition. We'd all hate to see anymore harm come to you."

"I'm sure you would." Her eyes narrowed into slits and she snapped open a briefcase that was cradled in her lap. "I won't make you strain yourself trying to injure my feelings any longer and I'll get right down to business."

"By all means."

"I have a very pressing matter to discuss with you Hooter, one that I feel should be addressed immediately." She produced a crisp looking file and slid her eyes onto him with the slightest hint of a smirk on her face. Hooter felt his patience fray, nothing good ever came of being smiled at by this one. She tossed the file onto his desk as if she believed it was the most useless scrap of paper in the world, but her eyes never left him. Another bad sign. "I think the contents of that file may be of some interest to you. There's a contract in there that I believe an anxious young Director signed some years ago that may provide you with the opportunity to, well, see to it that your current attention is spread less thin."

His eyes reluctantly broke their battle with hers. There was always this infuriating glimmer of superiority in her gaze, one that spoke volumes of her opinion of herself. Once, just once, he'd love to see that smugness dissolve, he'd even pay to see her knocked down a few pegs. Unfortunately, she was far too clever for that. The way she sat there, deceptively lovely and the hint of a smile on her bill... whatever was in this folder was something he was not going to like. Reluctantly he flipped it open and long forgotten documents greeted him, taunting him with his naivete. Shit.

"I am seizing control of the Glomgold investigation." Her face split in a serpentine grin, the kind a mouse sees a snake flash when escape is no longer an option. "Effective as of right now, you work for me."

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A single snowflake twisted through the gray dense air. It tumbled past windows, taking in the light of lives that carried on in overpriced platforms in the sky. Story after story it descended on the winter breeze sending it swirling through the smog and exhaust in path of poetic chaos. The ground drew nearer and nearer and in a wretched alcove, deaf to the wailing of sirens and the buzz of city life it fell gently toward the blaze of an overturned motorcycle's headlights. Down further it crept until it found it's resting place on the bill of a mallard slumped against the defaced wall behind him. It's perch, coursing with hot anger and agony reduced the fluffy precipitation to a droplet of water almost instantly. Darkwing's head craned back to look at the sky for more snowflakes as his vision blurred. He'd managed to keep himself together long enough to put a comfortable distance between him and prison. But he'd gone as far as he could. He forced himself to stop to try to regain himself or else his exhaustion would cause him to wipeout, so far it hadn't gone so well. Adrenaline had carried him out of that chair, and Gizmoduck had carried him out of that jail... now on his own with no crutches he couldn't even get to his own feet. Being electrocuted within an inch of his life probably had something to do with that. But there was something else, he closed his agonized eyes. It felt like his brain was trying to wriggle out through his ears, and it was on fire. His senses were going haywire, alien sounds rang in his head, phantom smells invaded his perception, and his eyes were playing tricks on him. It was as if his mind wanted him to be seventeen places at once, like it didn't understand there was only one of him, and that he tended to only be in one place all the time. It would pass. It would have to wouldn't it? As far as he could tell he hadn't been injected with anything... there were no puncture marks on him, and he didn't seem to feel like he'd been force fed anything. So that ruled out poison. This had to be his body's version of dealing with the shock of near expiration, he figured as the gentle grumble of the Ratcatcher's idling engine warped into the frenzied sound of children laughing. A tremulous breath escaped him as the laughter seamlessly changed to the purring of a cat and eventually the ticking of an old fashioned clock. Each shallow breath was a noseful of sweet scents of memories he didn't recall. One in particular was pumpkin pie. A young girl's shrill laughter galloped through his head and the world suddenly adopted a dark tone. The metallic tang of blood replaced the spice in the air and the laughter transformed into terrified screams and sobbing that rattled his bones. His stomach bubbled furiously and the oil slick of ooze crept toward his mouth. Rather than succumb, his body launched him onto his feet wrenching his eyes open, and time stopped.

A mansion stood before him. Caged behind massive rod iron gates taller than two quarterbacks. The summer song of birds spewed from the lushly leaved trees that encircled his range of vision and the meticulously groomed path that swirled out before him like a ghostly melody of a forgotten music box. The far structure was breathtaking, it's grand picture windows twinkling like lighthouses, leading him away from the crashing waves of the sea safely back to his... home? He shot his hand out to grab the gate but his fingers were bitten by the ferocious solidity of bricks. The injured appendage recoiled from the sudden pain, he blinked and the mirage was gone. The Ratcatcher's headlights illuminated the graffitied wall before him, as a handful of snowflakes drifted across his vision. A hand reached out and stroked a brick forlornly and for a moment he didn't register that it was his own. Feverishly he pulled it away and mopped the water droplet from his bill. He was acting like he was insane... his knees wobbled at just the thought of the word. He wasn't. He fixed the wall with a frosty glower, they must have done something to him while he was out. Megavolt seemed to know what that goop was that was flowing out of him like water from a spout. Despite his previous reasoning he decided this was the only explanation. It was something so despicable that only F.O.W.L. could cook it up. Wrong, said an annoying little voice in his head but he ignored it. His fist closed tightly around itself and in a flourish of his ragged cape he righted his bike and mounted it. His mind tried to compile the facts and push away the lingering disorientation of madness. Elmo Sputterspark was now "Megavolt", who was working with Quackerjack, who was a minion of F.O.W.L. which was run by Duncan, who was a Glomgold, who were rivals with Scrooge McDuck-

Fingers paused in the act of strapping on his helmet. Were they? Where did that come from? He didn't recall reading that, it was... as if it slipped out of the void, out through the metal slats in that mansion's front gate and into his head. And it rested there now, not on a shaking pedestal, but bathed in certainty. It was true, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was, and yet... and yet...

The air filled with more white as he stared blankly ahead. Where would he go from here? What road was the right one? Where was home? Did he have one? What was his future? How much of one did he even have? What was happening to him? How could he trust what he thought he knew when it could be so easily altered by hallucinations? The click of the helmet latch carried up and down the alley and he gripped the handlebar with a scowl. He wasn't insane, and he had one clue... real or not.

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There was much to be said about the skeleton of a house. The sad yet regal way it rotted and collapsed in on itself, it was a metaphor of life itself. Bodies, like homes, are decorated, maintained, or left unkempt. Years added milage, new scrapes, tears, holes and new coats of paint but under all that.... it still aged. Eventually it would all fall into a worthless pile of lumber, uninhabitable and empty. A select few would remember the life that once filled it, while the rest of the world would pass by not sparing a glance. A lone figure stood back studying the ruined structure that sprawled out before him. Carefully his gaze moved along the rotting beams that were splintering with neglect, to the crumbling walls that still clung to hide it's innards from unwanted eyes. He had lived here, it was a part of him as much as he was a part of it. It's walls hid nothing from him no matter how hard they tried. It had been his schoolhouse, his enemy, his accomplice, his first battlefield, he was the cancer of this place. The being that killed it. With shark like smoothness he wove through the debris that cluttered the grounds. The gnarled topiaries more closely resembled beasts than the neatly trimmed visages they had once been, he liked them better this way. He stepped over a rusted iron beam and his step resulted in the crunch of an abandoned beer can. Now that it had his attention he noticed it wasn't alone. The high untended grass was a mine field of them, along with cigarette butts and who knows what else. A little ways off he spotted the remains of an amateur's campfire. His eyes drifted back to the corpse of his home, it was like a wounded demon sitting there in it's decaying grandeur. Local teenagers probably came here to scare the piss out of themselves or their girlfriends. They no doubt came hoping to see a ghost. A smirk played darkly across his bill, maybe that's why he'd come here too.

Naked branches sliced across the putrid roof filling the bitter air with hellish screeching as he slid through the remains of the caved in double doors and entered the mildewed air beyond. The stink of rotting wood and mold perfumed the air; he breathed it in with morbid glee. Those theoretical teenagers hadn't made it this far he noticed as the main hall still had it's now ruined antiques. Not even the smallest hint of ransacking, or a footprint disturbed this tomb. His eyes traveled up the decrepit staircase and quickly ran back down, as if watching a fond memory cascading down them like a waterfall. They remained at the foot of the stairs taking in the invisible, the scraping of branches above added a macabre accompaniment to his reverie. He stood in silence, transfixed before he produced a pistol with eerie quickness. Unblinking, unshaking, his aim trained on the area of his attention, the rusted stained patch of marble tile at the foot of the sweeping stairs.

"Bang."

His voice ripped through the silent walls and collapsing ceilings invading every inch of the skeletal mansion with his malice. When his echoes vanished he removed his gaze from the ground and moved through the spore filled air toward an on looking room. The pistol swung between his fingers and through the ancient air disturbing the airborne dust into dismal patterns as he paraded on. His soles were captured by the dirt and fallen plaster with each confident step, the floorboards groaning from years of loneliness. Large warped wooden doors were within his reach and he paused his trek remembering how they had always been shut, so kingly and important in their deeply polished shine. Now they hung off their hinges at the very sight of him, like fractured leaves on a shedding tree. Oh what he would give to be able to kick down those old doors and be greeted by a face wrought with fear, a face so horrified it was practically unrecognizable before he made it truly so, by turning it into a crater. But no one stood before him so he moved onto the bacteria eaten carpet and into the musty rank air. The sky peeked at him through the gaps in the floors above. Twinkling stars between thick clouds were up there, a few stray snowflakes dribbling from them. They were of nothing of interest to him. A puddle had worn a groove into the wooden floor and the books that lined the buckled walls stank of decay. His hand brushed a few worm eaten volumes and they nearly sighed into dust. A pleasant laugh spilled out of him and he perched himself on the uneven surface of what was once a priceless desk. Eyes trailing the room, a gold cigar case slid from his pocket and he puffed one into life.

The death of knowledge. A graveyard of books, that was what this place was. Words that were painstakingly crafted now were crumbling and melting from neglect. If he had it his way he would love to be the devastating destructive force of time and nature. Slow and wretched, inescapable. He would be the demise of everyone and everything he encountered, a blast of thoughtful smoke laced the air. It was a shame that he was limited with being tangible but he just had to make due with the hand he'd been dealt. And that hand at the moment, was a pile of... not problems. Problems indicated the fault of their barer's ability to see to his ordeals properly the first time around. What he liked to think of them as were "loose ends". They were flapping freely, disrupting his view of the big picture. It was time to decide. Time to set his mind to work and hatch the definite fate of his loose ends. Tie them up, and be done with them once and for all. A swirling nimbus issued from him as his eyes gazed unblinking at the doorway.

The first loose end was a simple one to rectify. A death. It didn't need to be fancy, it simply needed to happen. The other, was more complicated. It had dragged on and on too long now. Another death was what his hands itched for, his fingers tensed to pull the trigger, his palms tingled for a throat to squeeze... but the brain always butted in. Oh what he'd give to be time and nature....

His eyes snapped to the figure that had come into his gaze and his pistol rose.

"Boss, we just got a call from H.Q. they said Quackerjack got our guy." The agent didn't seem phased by being in a steady set of crosshairs.

"No surprises?"

"Well... Darkwing Duck showed up."

"Is that surprising?" He growled.

"N-no sir. He got away though, and uh... apparently Isabella has seized control of S.H.U.S.H. sir-"

"Pah! I hope she chokes on it."

"-and also Megavolt mentioned Darkwing was uh... 'leaking black stuff', he was pretty sure you'd want to know."

The creaking of foliage answered as the two mallards remained silent. Loose ends flapped in the breeze. The time for games and indecision really was over. The icy eyes scanned the dilapidated mansion, it was only a matter of time before Drake tried to come here too then. He was up and halfway to the door so quickly the agent recoiled and fell over backward to be out of his way. A smoldering cigar landed in the debris beside the fallen duck who swallowed thickly as his superior loomed over him. Nervously the agent backed away until his spine brushed the foot of the staircase.

"Did you know that a double homicide was committed in this hellhole?" The pistol swirled around a pale white finger in shadows.

"Y-yessir."

"There was meant to be a third."

His eyes stayed on the trembling form that stared up at him. "The killer was interrupted you know, he had pushed his victim down those stairs. Watched her clatter down each step like a china doll... straining his ears to hear each bone snap... waiting for pay dirt. Waiting for the neck to splinter, to shatter on one of these massive stairs. Would you believe she was alive when she rolled to a stop, right where you are now? Her hair," His eyes glazed over slightly. "Her hair was messy, matted with blood, sweat, and tears. She cracked her head pretty good on the way down... a red patch stained her white hair like a big tropical flower. She just laid there gasping and weeping like an idiot while the killer swept down the stairs like the breath of the devil himself. He took one hand, seized a fistful of her beautiful bloody hair and..." His eyes snapped back to the present. "-was tackled by a police officer." He shook his head in disappointment. "Atrocious."

"U-uh yeah that's pretty- uh..."

"I really had hoped to make my debut a triple homicide." He stated grimly.

"S-sir?"

"Though... I do believe the appropriate phrase is 'better late than never'."

Bang.

Blood seeped along the grooves and cracks in the marble, pooling at the foot of the stairs where wide eyes stared up at him as he reloaded his missing bullet. If only those eyes were blue, he mused. But he supposed they would be soon enough. Without further thought, Duncan stepped back out into the night where a snowflake lazily landed on his bill.

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Darkwing Duck and all related characters are (c) Disney

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_Author's Note: Sweet Jebus. Talk about inactivity! I wish I could report that I've been having the time of my life and was sidetracked by awesome in regards to this absence. Sadly that is very much not the case. That being said I really hope you all enjoyed this chapter, as usual I will update as soon as I can. But aaaah sir, Times is hard... Times is haaaaaard._

_So to all my readers, new and old... thank you so much for reading._


	8. Final Desperation

Chapter Eight

Final Desperation

The severe passage ways of Macabre Castle had somehow taught themselves to never absorb sound. Even the smallest breath echoed for weeks up and down the bricks and eerie tapestries that peered out of every crevasse. It made sneaking around extremely difficult. Since the confrontation between the estranged Macabres that morning Gosalyn had been determined to spy on the mysterious Moloculo. Her task was made possible when Morgana, still in an irritated huff over the cryptic conversation about enchanting a key, informed her that she was leaving. Admittedly the thought of being alone in the tomb of a home with someone who repeatedly intended to harm her made her more than a little uneasy, but it supplied her with unsupervised time to sniff out some clues. Morgana had assured her that she would only be gone a few hours, and when she came back one way or another they would be able to return to St. Canard. It was a welcome thought that fueled her current boldness and thirst for answers. This also meant that she had far too little time to properly dig around so she attempted to tail her query. Unfortunately he was wise to her game and tried to lead her into an open cell in the cellar dungeon. Eek and Squeak had nearly shared identical heart attacks but she managed to find her way back to the ground floor after the old ghoul had disappeared with a snap of his twig like fingers. She took the hint and decided to try a new tactic. With some navigational assistance from Archie she was guided through the upper floors of the looming structure, where the dust settled thickly on everything within sight. These rooms were purely storage. Memories and nightmares were tucked behind these doors, and there seemed to be a million unwelcoming doors everywhere she turned. Simply moving through the halls caused the coating of gray to shift and kick up into the air like slow motion snowflakes. Her thoughts drifted to home. She wondered if it had started snowing over the city yet. If Drake had stopped to catch one in his palm or was he too busy to even notice the weather? Her eyes stung slightly but she set her bill in a frown. That's who she had to channel now. She tackled the rickety staircase to the next floor with renewed fierceness. The dimly lit scene before her was dissected by analytical eyes. What would Darkwing notice? Where would he start to look? Her high topped sneakers crept down the passage, her eyes coasting over the queue of closed doors. If he was here he'd find the answers, and so would she. Her progress stopped as she encountered a worn pair of double doors. The knob was discolored, the finish eaten away by the frequency of it's being turned. A smile almost darted across her face but she remained stoic as the bats nervously fluttered around her head. Her hand gripped the cool metal orb and it opened with ease.

The cliche creak rampaged through every pocket of silent air and she grimaced despite herself as it tore down the hall and galloped down the stairwell. Not wanting to see if she drew any attention she leaned toward the opening and listened. The musty smell of molding paper and the hush of a hundred libraries greeted her. Thick ancient silence awaited her on the other side of these doors as if the creaking had herded it all into one place. Her hand slipped from the handle and the room was invaded by the vigilant child. Once the darkness had released her eyes, she was able to make out the silhouette of a worn candle. Her feet shuffled toward it, her hands searching for obstacles that didn't come. After a moment of motion her fingers claimed the candle and to her surprise she felt a gritty dust covered matchbook beside it. Being the closet pyromaniac she was, the darkness was dispelled with ease. The wick of the yellowed candle ignited instantly and the blackness retreated slightly to reveal faces staring at her from every angle.

Portraits and paintings ran along the tall walls, the monstrous visages keeping a judgmental and disapproving watch over her. Archie grumbled incoherently from somewhere near her pigtails as she turned to take in more of the incredibly detailed faces around her. Different names were carved carefully into the frames and if she had more time she would have loved to take in the weirdness of every single one, but she was losing the race against time as it was. Her eyes slid closer to ground level and she realized the room was not as big as the double doors would have liked her to think. It was a filing room. Boxes were stacked neatly against the walls, years and numbers carefully written on each of them. A gnarly desk was home to her beacon of light and she was glad to see that the dry old papers that littered it's surface were nowhere near the place where she'd struck the match. The last thing she needed was to set the place ablaze. She rubbed her hands together before pushing the door nearly closed, there was no guarantee it wouldn't lock her in if she'd shut it completely and she really did not want to have to explain what she'd been doing in here. Once she was satisfied with it's almost closed-ness her eyes moved to the towers of information before her. It was time to find out what was going on here. As her hands closed around the first box she seized Archie grunted in approval.

The contents left her feeling rather unimpressed however. There were numerous files detailing the events of meetings of some "Council of Elders". After digging through a few of these reports she pushed the parcel aside, deeming it unimportant. Box after box, file after file, page after handwritten page she unearthed more an more about this Council. There seemed to be no limit to what they would talk about but she had seen the word "Normal" on enough pages to know that they shared Moloculo's view on them. The stacks of untouched boxes against the wall was assaulted by the child, her irritation growing more and more with each unsuccessful find. She made a promise that if she ever met this stupid Council she'd tell them to leave some paper for the rest of world. Halfway through the tenth box her fingers brushed a file tab written in silver ink. A thrill of excitement and terror ran through her as she brought it closer to the light and watched the shining letters read: Morgana. Her eyes darted to the dark corners of the room, almost expecting to see the red eye glaring at her, but once it was confirmed she was still alone she carefully opened the sheath. A small stack of battered papers was inside and her enthusiasm deflated. What was she expecting? A letter, she answered herself. Although she knew it wouldn't be that easy she was convinced if she could get her hands on just one she would have her answers and be satisfied. Decidedly aggravated with her find she flipped through the scribbled notes in nearly indecipherable script. It was odd how messy the handwriting was on these tiny pieces of paper. She figured he was writing them quickly, like he was ashamed to think about her at all. The thought only angered her further making her fingers dance through the gibberish quicker. Near the end of the bundle her progress paused her idle flipping. A sheet of the careful handwriting she'd seen him apply to the council documents was in her hands. On closer inspection it was covered in numbers in neat columns and corresponding descriptions. She took it closer to the light and read the first line.

"Box: Forty. Age: Seventeen. Contents: Spidersilk Traveling Cloak." Her brow furrowed and glanced the rest of the page before locating the box in question and yanking it free. Upon opening it she discovered a gift box crammed in among the council files. It was obviously wrapped at some point, because there was deteriorated wrapping paper on it. Unable to contain her curiosity she pried the gift open and a few moths fluttered away from a now hole riddled black cloth. Her fingers wrapped around the astonishingly soft fabric and lifted the remains of a cloak out of it's coffin. A piece of paper was tacked to the gemstone broach that closed the front of it. It read: For the next time you decide to 'run away'. Realization dawned on her. She was holding a birthday present. She raced back to the light leaving the discovery in disarray where it landed. The paper was thrust toward the candle as she skidded to a stop so sudden that the spider tumbled off her head and onto the desktop with an indignant cry. Breathless, her eyes scoured the page. Box fifty-two apparently had an emerald pendant for her eighteenth birthday. Box sixty six a dragon skin journal for her nineteenth. The list went on but her eyes darted down the list to the last entry. Box One hundred and thirty, age twenty seven, there were only two words there but she perceived an echo of misery in the pen strokes. It said "Final Desperation". It only took her a moment to topple all the excess stack off her target and not even the tidal wave of lose paper could distract her from the box in her hands. The lid was torn off in seconds and she dug through the noticeably newer files. Her search was short as a small box was wrenched from it's resting place. It was meticulously wrapped in glossy black paper and her heart went out to the ghoul who was no doubt still fuming in the lower floors of the castle. He had put so much effort into making it look perfect, and then buried it in these files with no hope of ever giving it to it's intended recipient. Every year Morgana had been gone he'd wrapped her a gift, probably expecting her to come home for the first few, and eventually coming to realize she was not coming back. Even though she didn't return he still wrapped her presents, and then surrendered them to the abyss of his records. He buried them, along with his hope. An ambitious fire suddenly erupted in her. Morgana was back now, and this was her last birthday present. This was a parcel that held the blueprints to repairing their rift and her fingers flew for the bow. There was only a thin sheet of paper separating her from whatever he deemed his "final desperation" and she was dying to know what it was.

A floorboard creak rang through the previously silent hallway and her progress froze completely. He was coming up the stairs. Her heart pounded in her ears and Eek and Squeak descended on her primed to explode with fear but she plucked them out of the air and muffled them by wrapping them up in the bottom of her shirt. The gift landed on her lap and she barely noticed as the groan of the rotting wooden planks grew closer. Her eyes darted to the lit candle, he'd see it for sure and come in here. A chill ran down her spine as she tried to imagine what would happen after he took in the havoc she'd created in this sanctum. She held her breath and was about to leap to her feet to extinguish the flame when she saw one of Archie's hairy legs reach up and smother the light completely. She could have kissed the fuzzy little blob and made a mental note to catch a fistful of flies for him before she left. Her attention was redirected to the world beyond the double doors as she heard his foot meet the moldy carpet that lined the hall. What would he do if he did find her here? He couldn't hurt her but what if he just happened to set up some blameless traps? Like... a guillotine over her headboard? An alligator in the bathroom? The idea made her shiver and she stared at the small crack that was her only view of the passage beyond this room. The darkness was slowly invaded by the faint light of what she guessed was a spell. As he approached she heard his vehement mumbling as it slowly rose into an audible tone.

"-roaming my home like a crazed chupacabra! As I am reduced to sitting here allowing it free reign of my castle! I shall have the foul stench of Normal clinging to my nostrils for months! And now the beast is snooping as Morgana marches off to-"

Gosalyn felt herself go rigid as Moloculo came into her line of sight and stopped not only his tirade but his heated gait. The light that illuminated his form was a ball of energy floating around his tattered top hat. As unwelcome a sight as he was she couldn't help but stare as his features twisted into an expression alien to his usually livid face. He looked so much older, broken. One of her hands freed itself from muffling the bats that were scared into silence to grip the present on her lap. This new Moloculo spoke again, in a death rattle of a whisper.

"...As Morgana marches off to a den of enemies and I remain in this prison as the vengeful creature I've become. When my daughter asks me for help... I prove how all my righteousness has deteriorated into spiteful pride. What a useless old spore you are Macabre..." The figure shook his head and his posture regained some of it's lift and the ghoul continued on his way. His plank like feet slapped along the hall until they entered the far stairwell and continued up.

Gosalyn stared at the slice of the hall long after he'd gone. She released her held breath and the Nanny bats were untangled from her shirt where they flopped onto the floor to recover from their panic. Her hands closed around the gift once more in the darkness and his words still rang in her ears. A pang of guilt stung her and she sighed. This box wasn't meant for her, she had no right to open it. She looked at the doors once more. Okay, so perhaps she wasn't meant to be the super sleuth. Her thumb slid along the smooth paper in her grip and her resolve hardened. Maybe she was supposed to do something much more important. She would try to mend this mess that had fallen right into her lap... right after she cleaned up the mess that currently surrounded her.

* * *

Dawn was breaking over Duckburg. The city was still asleep and in comparison to it's unruly neighbor St. Canard it seemed catatonic. But that was just the way it had always been. It lacked the glamor of the bigger city but it also lacked the wealth of criminal activity. That was why it was possible for a money bin to be a focal point of the metropolis. It was prime example of the benefits of honest hard work. It harbored the fortune of one of the most influential business men in the world, not to mention the richest duck in the world. Though it wasn't just a glorified vault, it was also this person's working office as well. On a usual day it's occupant would spend countless hours locked up in his fortress running his superpower of a enterprise. In recent days however, it had remained vacant.

Since the chaos that had drawn Scrooge McDuck to St. Canard had passed, he found himself unwilling to leave his family. The result was that his business affairs were being seen to from his home office. Knowing that the children were always within earshot made his paranoia more bearable. The old man's nerves were worn even thinner now that Fenton, or rather Gizmoduck, had been recruited by S.H.U.S.H. to try to resolve this seemly hopeless situation. Scrooge was doubly determined not to let any of his wards stray anywhere more perilous than the halls of this mansion. Despite the madness that was looming at every corner there was a sense of calm in his home. There was finally some closure about Dewey's death and the impact of that was all too clear in the children and in himself. There was also a further layer of contentment knowing that he wasn't alone in keeping an eye on the kids. Launchpad had taken up temporary (and the pilot stressed this fact) residence in the mansion. It was because of Launchpad's constant companionship to the children that McDuck found himself able to get any work done at all. The kids trailed the pilot everywhere he went and it was crystal clear that the man was pleased to spend so much time with them. They followed him as closely as chicks to a hen and it was mostly because he had an endless supply of what they were starving for: Darkwing Duck.

Each of them pestered Launchpad to tell them about the young man's adventures and he would oblige without hesitation. McDuck reasoned that it was also fueled by Launchpad missing his friend that he didn't tire of regaling the children with tales of daring do. What did surprise him though was that no matter what kind of fact or story was being told one of the children hung on every breath the closest, and that was Webbigale. She was practically an authority on the masked mallard at this point but her thirst was apparently unquenchable. In the moments she wasn't picking Launchpad's brain she would draw pictures of the vigilante and had even begun making supplies for a Darkwing Duck Fan Club. Currently a few crayon posters and homemade pins took up a corner of his desk. Crudely cut cardboard glued to safety pins were painted with some witty catchphrases she had pulled from the ether. Scrooge smiled and closed his business ledger as he took one of the posters in his hand.

"I didn't expect to find myself immortalized in purple crayon by you Mr. McDuck." A dark voice came from a nearby window and it startled him almost enough to jump but if it was one thing Scrooge was famous for it was his poker face. Instead he merely smiled as the form of Darkwing was shadowed against the rising sun. He motioned the young man inside and the banter continued. "I look pretty good in violet. Think it's time for a wardrobe change?"

"Ah dinnet mean te damp'n yer spirits lad but ah dinnet draw this." He held the paper out to the man as he approached and it was carefully taken from his grip. As the keen eyes appraised the paper Scrooge couldn't help but notice how battered he was. "Webbigale is a much better artist than ah am."

"Well she's got good taste in subject matter. 'When there's trouble you call D.W.?'" He read blankly.

"Aye, she thinks it'd be a good slogan fer th' fan club she's puttin' tagether fer ya."

"Fan club?" There was a flicker of amusement in his eyes as a smile crossed Darkwing's bill. "Hell, I'll do her one better. She can be my press agent."

"She'd take ya up on it inna heartbeat. Won't ya sit? If a breeze blows through yer gunna fall over." Scrooge nodded to a chair opposite him. The vigilante glanced at the seat and sighed as he placed the fan club poster face down on the desk.

"If I sit down I won't be able to get back up." The cool eyes locked on Scrooge with the intense seriousness the old man had come to expect. "I'm afraid this isn't a social call."

"With ya lookin like ya got dragged behind a team of horses for a mile Ah'd be surprised if it was. What brings ya out t' me mansion? Cannet be good news Ah'm sure."

"Does the name 'Glomgold' ring any bells for you?"

"Bells, alarms, an' several gongs te put it lightly."

"Do you know that the bastard who's orchestrating all this chaos, the one who was masquerading as me is calling himself Duncan Glomgold?"

"Aye th' news did reach me yes. But me trouble's always been with ole' Flintheart never met a Duncan before."

Darkwing's eyes seemed to slide out of focus for a moment and Scrooge felt his forehead wrinkle. He expected the mallard to collapse but Darkwing managed to remain standing and fixed his inquisitive gaze on him once more.

"...Flintheart?" He echoed uncertainly.

"Aye an' a fittin' name for a snake like him. Been a thorn in me side fer decades now. He's me number one rival in just about everythin' from finance te trades and stocks. He's always been out te claim me title as richest duck in th' world too. But he's never gunna do it because his business has always been too shady."

"How shady?"

"Like a shadow inna black hole. He's got plenty'a criminals on his payroll that's a clear enough picture ah kin paint fer ya ah'm sure."

"Does he have children?"

"Flintheart?" Scrooge had to restrain his urge to laugh. "Lad he's just as carin' as his name sounds. There isn't a lady in the world that's masochistic enough te' have any children with Flinty. Though ah'm no expert on his family tree ah know he had a brother, he had a few wee ones."

"So Duncan might be a nephew?"

"Possibly, now that ya bring it up ah've been seein' a lot of his niece in th' tabloids lately." He pushed a few books aside and produced a handful of local newspapers. His fingers flicked through the pages to a story in the business section. He spun the paper around to show the image to his company. "Seems she's fittin up the Rockerduck heir for a weddin' ring. No doubt tryin' te get me title fer herself. About as cuddly as a bag of razors she's supposed ta be. She works as a travellin' representative of Glomgold Incorporated-" Scrooge noticed the puzzled look on Darkwing's face and lost all train of thought.

"Her? S-she's a Glomgold?"

"Ah take it ya met her?" McDuck's left eyebrow arched curiously.

"I have." The sudden lack of composure was replaced with a unsettling fierceness. "And I'm going to meet with her again very soon. If anyone has answers for me, it's her."

"Lad. Be careful when dealin' with devils named Glomgold. If she's anythin' like her uncle her heart's as black as the inside of a lion. Which is were yer likely ta end up if ya let yer guard down fer even a minute."

"What a charming family trait." Darkwing pushed the newspaper back toward the mogul. "Thank you Mr. McDuck, you've just given me the lead I've been looking for."

"Yer welcome, jes remember that lead coulda been lookin' fer you too." McDuck kept his eyes locked on Darkwing's until the younger mallard turned to leave. Unable to refrain himself Scrooge spoke up again. "Wait a minute lad. Will ya not say hello ta me niece an' nephews? Launchpad either? They'd all love ta see ya." Even in the state you're in, he added in the silence of his own head.

"No." Darkwing kept his back turned, his voice as hard as ever. "It would be best if no one knew I had come here."

"By th' by..." Scrooge rapped a few fingers on his desktop pointedly. "...how DID ya get by me security?" He peered over his glasses at the still form.

"There's a momentary blind spot in your rotating cameras in the north east quarter of the property. You should have someone repair the alarm sensor on the inner most fence as well."

"That alarm was workin' two hours ago."

Darkwing shrugged.

"The front door was never really my style. I picked off the weakest of your contraptions. Consider it a test."

"Well, ah suppose ye'd be the one ta find th' flaws. But ah have te' insist if ya have any more questions te ask that ya kindly spare me expensive security equipment an use me front door or ah'll be sendin' ya th' repair bills."

"...fair enough."

"Good luck Darkwing."

The vigilante glanced over his shoulder at him with a curt nod. There was a flourish of black fabric as he departed through the window and somehow, Scrooge mused as he leaned back in his chair, it was suddenly like he had never been there at all.

* * *

Darkwing Duck and all related characters are (c) Disney

* * *

_My goal: To finish this story before the end of the year. And I've already got the next few chapters typed up so, so far so good. I know it took me a year to update. But it's better than not updating at all right? Thanks for sticking around (if you have) and thanks for the new readers who added these stories to your favorites and this one to your alerts for reminding me that I need to finish this monster. 3_


	9. Linked Lock Charm

Chapter Nine

Linked Lock Charm

The intimidating fortress of brick and vines loomed before her. Morgana craned her neck back to try to see the gargoyles perched along the rim of the ancient structure but the rolling fog that crashed silently around the building like waves of smoke made it hard to pinpoint them. She wondered if it was natural, or if someone had thought that a thick fog would add to the mystique of the place. From what she could see of the building, it looked exactly as she remembered it. Her eyes skimmed lower, to the students filing into the maw of the beastly school like hypnotized lemmings. Eldritch Academy, she had been forbidden to return here. Her eyes narrowed as she took a strong step forward. Just let them try and keep her out. As the familiar passages and the old forgotten walls went by her, she noticed she was drawing quite a bit of attention. Eyes followed her now as they had then, back when her entire life dwelled in these walls. Back when her hopes and dreams mixed in among the tapestries and spider webs so deeply that she felt like she was walking into an emotional morgue to identify their bodies. The future she had planned for herself back then would have been chiseled into these stones, she might have been married, perhaps even been a mother. She had so many dreams back then, when she was naive and so in tune with these prejudice creatures. Her life had turned out so differently than even her own vivid imagination could have conceived, but she would never trade it with any of these creatures. When she moved by an open classroom door a breath of lecture caught her ears and her mind started to wander again. What would she have become if she'd remained here? Would she have even returned to the school after graduation? Perhaps she would be one of the conjurers that worked freelance between warring territories. Or she might have become a teacher. The rows of eager faces would be turned to her, hungry for guidance. She shook her head lightly before pushing the possible scenario out of her mind. She didn't belong here. Not as a child and certainly not now. As tempting as it was to wonder what might have been the truth always boiled down to the basic fact: She wouldn't have been herself. This place was cruel, she would have been used, lied to and she probably would have allowed it. She had let all of it occur so many times in her youth, and she was so much stronger now. But the thought that sobered her most of all was that if she had remained here, she never would have met Drake.

Her feet fiercely kept their serious stride as she neared her destination. The Headmaster's office was before her and she knew that if he wasn't in there, he would be soon. More than a few faculty members were shadowing her now. The aged name plate beside the doorway caught her eye and a slight smile crossed her face. Alastor Greytalon, her old Headmaster was still around, and she was glad. It would be much easier to appeal to someone she knew. The door opened smoothly with the smallest touch and she was greeted by a familiar scene. The space was littered with stacks of musty old parchment piled high, the desk beneath them elaborate with taloned legs, and the walls were lined with faces of the school's long history. Somehow among all the faces on the wall her eyes honed in on a grinning young ghoul she recognized, if only barely. The teenage Moloculo looked so pleased, and the sight made her own detached mood vanish. She had to get back to the castle before he could think a way around her hex. Her eyes scanned the empty chair behind the important looking desk and she sighed. Wasting time waiting for him to get here was not helping her anxiety at all. She sat in the chair across from that of the office's owner irritably. Her fingers fiddled absently with the crystal ring she wore as her gaze began to scan the remaining pictures only half interested in what they were contained. Greytalon had to hurry, she needed that key enchanted. She needed to know Drake was alright, and the waxing and waning feelings of pain were not a good indication of the condition she was likely to find him in. Suddenly a face among the crowded walls demanded her attention and curiosity pulled her from her seat to investigate. The picture was tacked in a place of honor, the young woman featured had a familiar smug smile and her eyes twinkled with malice even as a young girl. Morgana stared into Magica DeSpell's eyes for a long while. Unable to fathom that the battle still fresh in her mind that ended in tainted victory would be punctuated by seeing the black hearted witch immortalized on Greytalon's wall. Did they know she was dead? she wondered. Why would they honor such an awful person? The thought had occurred to her no sooner than another nearby grinning face made an old fear and hatred cocktail mix in her stomach. A rival, a true tormentor from her past had graduated at the head of their class it seemed. The girl's superior smirk was as dark and infuriating as Morgana recalled but the stark white hair that had always been so meticulously styled to frame the girl's lovely features was strategically swooped to hide the left side of her face. Whatever was under that sheet of white, Morgana herself had caused. She had been attacked so savagely by this girl that she returned the favor. Until now she had never even seen what had become of Tanya Spellbinder. The image made her mood swing to guilt and pity.

"I do apologize for making you wait I was overseeing a lecture when I was alerted that a visitor was in residence in my office."

Morgana turned to see the elderly ghoul shuffle across the room and settle into his chair delicately. He had been old when she first met him, now he looked so beyond the word she felt her gaze could break his bones. The ancient Headmaster placed a roll of parchment into a drawer and dusted off his eyeglasses as she watched him silently.

"I hope you weren't inconvenienced -" The spectacles were placed on his bill and his eyes finally met hers. Realization raged through them like bull in a china shop. "...long." He finished lamely.

"It's been a while Headmaster." She said plainly, not letting her guard drop for even an instant. The startled look he had held on her was making her uneasy, she wasn't sure what would come next.

"Morgana Macabre." He stated in disbelief. "I never thought these old eyes would see you again. Rumors spread of you retreating to the world of Normals to seek out your mystical source."

"They're true. I-" She shook her head. "Mr. Graytalon I haven't much time. I need a favor of you." His demeanor changed instantly to one of unreadable thought. She dug the precious piece of metal out of her pocket. "I need this key enchanted. I don't know how he does it but my father jinxed a key to unlock any door as a portal to the key's home lock."

Graytalon's eyes glanced at the plain looking key then to her.

"Why not just ask Moloculo to do the same to this one?"

"Let's just say he's not too pleased to see me back."

A foreign expression passed the old face and she felt a strange knot twist in her stomach. She wanted to ask him what that disquieted look meant but there was no time. Her eyes stared his down unrelenting and he tried to hold his dominance but he resigned after a long moment with a tired blink.

"I see..." He shifted in his chair obviously uncomfortable with the way things had transpired.. "...Well, I must admit it is a very difficult, extremely complicated spell to cast. There aren't many who can boast that level of concentrated manipulation. I was never able to master that particular skill myself, and it's one that can get very messy if it isn't done properly."

"Someone here must be able to. Please Headmaster..." He shook his head slowly, but she had come too far.

"I'm sorry Ms. Macabre, that you have toiled through the wastelands of Normals to return to us only to-"

She thrust her hand toward him and he recoiled slightly. The ring glowed in the darkness like a blossom of dawn drowning in midnight. He stared at it wildly.

"My source." She explained slowly. "I found it in what you assume is 'wasteland' and I abandoned it there without a way to return. I did not come back here to try to rejoin this school or this society. I came here because I made a mistake. I need to go back. He needs me."

Graytalon stared at the glowing crystal. It was dimmer than she was used to seeing it. When she was in contact with Drake she could barely tear her eyes away from it's dazzling appearance. The way the glass shimmered, the sharp cuts of the stone glittering like captive galaxies. In it's current state it was still lovely but it was only a fraction of what it was meant to be. Judging by the fascination on her elder's face she figured it was breathtaking regardless of it's weakened state.

"'He?'" Graytalon finally echoed the word and slowly let his yellow eyes search her face.

"I need to have this key enchanted. It is not a question or a request." She tried not to sound threatening but he frowned at her all the same.

"Much has changed since the night I last saw you..." He started coldly.

"Little change has come of high walls and the rules of those that hide behind them! The workings of a close minded society don't matter to me anymore!" Her fist pounded the desktop and he scowled at it. "However much you think things have changed here I assure you that you'll find that it all falls terribly short compared to how much I've changed. You have no idea what I've done and what I've been through!" Her hands slapped the dusty desk angrily and her eyes burned. "I don't want to lose my temper and I know you don't want that to happen either. You of all people know what we Macabres are capable of when our anger takes the wheel." The face before her tried to hide his concern but she saw it all the same. She was officially branded extremely dangerous before she was expelled, and it was his signature on that paper. Her mouth opened to speak again and she barely noticed how it trembled as she spoke. "I'm not asking to be forgiven and I'm not looking for a pardon. I don't want either. Believe me when I say that this is the last place I want to be right now." The harshness in her companion's eyes faded enough to show a hint of pity. He knew this place held no joy for her. "...I just." She willed her voice steady. "I just came for a spell. One spell on one key. After I get that you'll never have to worry about me again."

Thoughtful silence followed her plea and the Headmaster seemed to consider it thoroughly. He seemed so frustratingly reluctant to help her. It wasn't an unreasonable request, was it? She blinked and the lines on his face seemed to carve deeper into his skin. How much pain and anger did he have to deal with after what she'd done? He must have had to endure so much scrutiny and rage because of the actions of a hurt young woman lashing out at her high society tormentors. He closed his eyes with a submissive sigh.

"There is only one member of my staff that has successfully conjured the Linked Locked charm."

"Thank you Hea-" She started joyfully but he shook his head.

"I don't think they'd be willing to aid you. Perhaps if you left it with me I could see if the charm could be cast later. I would be willing it to deliver it to your father's castle no later than dusk tomorrow."

Could she wait that long? Morgana closed her eyes and closed her grip around the little piece of metal protectively. This was the only chance she had of getting back to Drake that wouldn't involve extensive travel through unknown territory... with Gosalyn. A chill, a shiver of ache, slid down her spine. He was in pain somewhere. Her eyes opened and locked with Graytalon's pensive gaze.

"No." Her voice stated flatly. "No, it has to be done now. There isn't time."

"You don't-"

"If I don't get it now there will be no point! I'm not going to upset the precious order of your school! I'm not a thief. I proved myself more trust worthy than most of the wretches that filled the classrooms of my youth! Do you think I'm going to slaughter your faculty to fulfill some dark pact or whatever it is you people think I've done! That I've come to take over?" The words filled his eyes with suspicion and her skin prickled with white hot rage. "You do don't you! Well let me be the one to tell you that I'm not. I am not and never have delved into forbidden magic. I know the lies that followed me, the reason the Council of Elders had you expel me and ransacked my father's library! " Her voice cracked but she pressed on, the emotion driving the words out of her mouth in a tidal wave. "I had to live my life under a magnifying glass here only because I was stronger than everyone else. I had a gift and they all hated me for it. They wanted to see me fall, to find out that I was useless and had cheated to get ahead but you-" Something warm dripped down her face and she wiped it away quickly. "You encouraged me when no one else did. Told me I belonged even when I didn't think I did. I always thought that you believed in me. And now... I see no one did."

She closed her eyes tight and collapsed back into her chair. Her hands pressed against her eyelids. She didn't want to see the faces smiling at her from the walls, laughing at her, she didn't want to see the face of the ghoul in front of her. The wave of pain crashed over her again, it was quick and harsh as it was before but it felt so much worse. Despair was settling in as she thought of him. He was hurting, possibly dying. He had believed in her, and now she couldn't even come through to justify that trust by helping him. A sad sigh pulled her out of her misery.

"I did believe in you my poor girl. I still believe in you."

Morgana looked up to meet a sympathetic gaze.

"I knew from the moment I saw your familiars that your magic was exceptional. And I'll be the first to admit I was a coward when it came to the attacks made against you." His eyes softened. "You really must hate us."

"I did." She admitted numbly. "I really did, but I don't anymore. I just want to go back to where I belong."

"I only hesitate for your own good..." He rubbed his temples tiredly. "...and for hers. I must stress that you keep your extraordinary gift in check or you will have outstayed your welcome on these grounds."

"Why wouldn't I?"

He didn't grant her an answer but turned his attention to a stack of papers in the center of his desk.

"If you remember your way through the catacombs, the Professor you're looking for is finishing up her lesson in the Golem room."

The words had barely registered in her brain before she shot out of the chair and dashed out of the office. She had her destination and there wasn't a force, natural or supernatural, that would stand between her and St. Canard.

* * *

Richard Rockerduck woke up alone. The hotel suite was bathed in early morning sunshine and it caused a few threads in the silky pillow beside him to twinkle. Isabella was gone, and judging from the hush beyond the door, she had taken the S.H.U.S.H. agents with her. As long as she was safe he didn't care. He blindly patted the bedside table knocking some riffraff over until he found his Gooseberry and squinted at the fuzzy screen. No texts or e-mails from her, just a mountain of work related drivel to sort through during his breakfast. As he skimmed through the subject lines he couldn't really be surprised. Issy never checked in with him, she didn't think she needed to. He just wished he knew where she was but, there was no chaining her free spirit, and he really admired that about her. A heavy sigh escaped him as he put the electronic device back on the night stand and to his horror another sigh came from across the room. Richard sat up so fast little white dots floated before his eyes. His natural bad vision scoured the blurry room until it found a menacing blob in a shadowy corner.

"Who are you? How did you get in here." Richard demanded and then a terrifying thought crossed his mind. "If you hurt Issy I swear-"

"Mr. Rockerduck, I'm not here to hurt anyone. I just wanted to ask a few questions."

"S.H.U.S.H. has agents watching this room you know. You'll be arrested before you even think of trying anything."

The blob sighed again.

"Sure. Fine. Sir, my name is Darkwing Duck-"

"The mercenary?"

"Uh... more of a vigilante really."

"I thought you were dead? I read about it in the papers you kidnaped the McDuck kids and then fell into the bay."

"Well I'm not." Darkwing cut him off harshly. "And I was framed for whatever else you read. I promise I'm not here to do any harm. I was the one that saved Ms. Glomgold from her attackers the other night. As a thank you she maced me and tried to lodge a shoe in my brain."

"She is feisty." Richard admitted with a hesitant smile but it soon faded into deep thought. "Wait... you rescued her?"

"Yes and I've got the bloodshot eyes to prove it."

Richard suspected he must have grinned like a madman by the way the vigilante's form distorted in a defensive tick.

"You rescued her! Then I'll answer anything you want!"

"I... was hoping to speak to her honestly. Will she be back soon?"

"Probably not. She tends to stay away until nightfall. You'd think she didn't like me or something. But she is wearing my ring so I guess that's not the case." He laughed warmly. "Lucky me."

"Uh... huh. Perhaps I should come back later then..."

"No please! I'd like to help you! I'm in your debt after all, I don't know what I'd do with out her."

The room was quiet and Richard felt as if he were on a glass slide being peered at through a microscope. He must have sounded so foolish, but it was true. Sometimes he forgot that people didn't know how real love felt. Would a bad ass like Darkwing Duck even know what he was talking about? It was worth a shot.

"She's my everything. When we're together it's like... I don't know, magic! When she's with me I feel like I could take on the world." Richard felt a bit crestfallen under that scrutinizing stare. "You think I'm nuts don't you?"

"...probably." But the note of amusement in Darkwing's voice made Richard smile. "But maybe we're fit to be cell mates. Women can really mess you up can't they?"

"Truly we are kindred spirits."

"You really love her?"

"More than anything. I can't thank you enough for keeping her safe. If she had been abducted-"

"It's nothing." Darkwing interrupted quickly, probably sensing Richard's impending melodramatic ramble. "I haven't got much time so if you'd oblige me and answer some questions I have in her stead we'll be even."

"Anything. Fire away." He sat stiffly as if a boy in school waiting to be called on.

"Does she have a brother?"

"Oh... well she did. But he died, a very long time ago."

"How?"

"It's kind of a morbid story actually," Richard squinted at the blurry form suddenly remembering who he was talking to. "But I suppose you're used to those. Well, when she was a child someone broke into her home and murdered her family. She would have been next if the police hadn't arrived when they did. She's never gotten over it either, she still has nightmares about it and that's why she so aggressive. I mean, wouldn't you be? I think she's afraid that the killer's stil trying to finish the job. So please don't be too upset with her reaction in that alley. She was just scared, though she'd maim me if she heard me say that."

"Who killed her family?"

"The killer fled the scene but the police picked him up a few weeks later. He was a local hood, police said he broke in to rob the place and the Glomgolds got in the way. They locked him up and I think he died in prison not shortly after. But... I don't know..."

"What?" The inquisitive eyes flashed.

"It all seems too convenient. Issy's Uncle had taken her in by then and she picked the guy out of a line up within seconds but it's never sat right with me. I know what her Uncle Flintheart's like, my parents are like that too. They'd put the blame on a nun just to put an end to the media frenzy. Unfortunately a trait of both our families is that they're more concerned with upholding their good name than seeing something properly through to the end. I think that's why we have such a deep conn-"'

"So you believe that an innocent man was framed for this crime?"

"I'm certain that he was guilty of something but not of murdering Duncan and their parents. Why else would she still be so paranoid that someone was after her? If they had the real killer behind bars she wouldn't be. Right?"

"You've known her how long?"

"My father and her Uncle were occasional business partners so we went to the funeral. As morbid as it sounds that's when I first met her and I knew I'd marry her someday."

"Can you remember anything significant about the funeral? Anyone that was there that shouldn't have been or someone who should have been but wasn't?"

"No, I was only a kid. I do remember how sad everyone was though. Two big coffins and one little one sinking into the ground. They managed to make her parents look lovely but whatever happened to Duncan was apparently too awful to repair. His was the only casket closed."

"Hmph. Interesting." Darkwing nearly snorted and Richard felt his brow pucker.

"Mr. Duck... might I ask why you're here? Why all these questions? Is there something you can tell me about what happened to lead to the events that had her dragged from my arms and into the back of an unmarked car?"

"I wish I could tell you but unfortunately there is too much I still don't know. I don't suppose you know where Isabella is currently? I really need to follow up with her."

"She must have left before sun up." Richard shook his head and Darkwing issued a growled sigh. "If you want I can talk to her? Put in a good word for you? She really should thank you personally after all."

"That would be insanely helpful. Thank you Mr. Rockerduck." The form emerged from the shadows and moved toward the door. Richard's hand grasped his glasses from the night stand and a flurry of movement responded to the small motion. Before he could react there was full grown man pinning him to the floor.

"M-my glasses! They're my glasses!" He croaked and the pressure was instantly removed. A strong grip helped him to his feet and Darkwing spoke again.

"I'm sorry Mr. Rockerduck. Force of habit."

"Don't worry about it. No harm done. And please call me Richard." He dusted himself off and slid the glasses onto his bill the room swimming into focus. "You're just like her you know-" The masked face was before him clearly, the bloody veins in his eyes still lingering. Oh Isabella."-both of you expect the worst."

"That's only because that's what's usually waiting for me."

Darkwing didn't waste another word as he promptly turned and slid out of the doorway like greased lightning. He was extremely good at that, Richard barely heard the door close. The millionaire stood watching the exit for a long moment. There was something he couldn't quite put his finger on, but he felt as if he'd met that man before. There was just something so familiar about him. The Gooseberry chirped and reality drifted back into the forefront. The work day wouldn't wait any longer. He just hoped he had given Darkwing some of the answers he was looking for.

* * *

Darkwing Duck and all related characters are © Disney

* * *

A.N.: So I just figured I'd put it out there that Richard's parents are John D Rockerduck (third richest duck in the world in the $crooge comics) and Brigitta MacBridge (gold digger and harborer of an unrequited love for Mr. McDuck also from the comics). This really has no real revelance to anything story wise, but I just thought it might interest some of you. :)


	10. Best Laid Plans

Chapter Ten

Best Laid Plans

Gosalyn wasn't sure if this was the best tactic but it was absolutely the most direct. The truth of it was she was getting impatient with being kept in the dark. With Morgana off to who knows where that gave her the perfect opportunity to attempt to get Moloculo to spill the beans. Or whatever it was ghouls spilled, eye balls maybe? Or newt tails? She could imagine Yeti drool would be a good replacement. Yes it was time to get Moloculo to spill the Yeti drool. He always entombed himself in his study, so she didn't even have to decide on where to start looking. Her nanny bats were chirping a warning to her but there was no changing her mind now. She was going to talk to him, seriously talk to him, even if she needed to wacky glue his coattails to the floor. As she approached the double doors she was pleased to see a dim light coming through the thin seams, he was in there all right. With a deep breath she raised her fist and knocked. Her knuckles left tracks in the dust, but there was no other reaction. Irritated, she rapped on the door louder.

"Remove yourself from that hallway before I jinx you into oblivion."Growled his voice from beyond the suddenly flimsy seeming barrier.

"I'll get out of the hall when you let me in. How about that?"

There was a snarl in reply and he promptly returned to ignoring her. She narrowed her eyes at the wood grain. This was a challenge she would not bow to. Gosalyn Mallard could out last anyone's patience, it was one of her many gifts. She began tapping on the door insensately, composing songs as she went to keep the flow unending. To keep herself interested the songs would morph into old nerve fraying favorites such as: "The Wheels on the Bus" "Ninety Nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall" and of course "The Song that Never Ends". She pummeled the surface persistently and though she wasn't keeping track of time she was sure it was at least fifteen minutes (halfway through the third encore of "The Star Spangled Banner" ) that the door whipped open. Moloculo,in all his fury, stood blocking the entrance but before she could lose her nerve she slid into the study.

"Thanks, I was just starting to get a little tired. Nice office you've got here, you've gotta lot of old crumbly books have you read them all?" She sidled around feigning interest at the surroundings when really it was merely to keep her from looking at him. She could feel him glaring daggers at her. "What do you do in here anyway? Are you reading a sappy romance novel? Or are you writing a horror story about a red haired monster in a haunted mansion? Oh that'd be cool, I could help. Are you making up new spells? You should make one for vampire potatoes!"

The door slammed shut and she half expected to turn and see that he had left her here but a quick glance showed her he had simply sat back at his desk. Of course he was ignoring her existence with fierce determination once more. A smirk pulled at her mouth before she started inspecting the bizarre odds and ends that littered all surfaces.

"Where do you get all this stuff? Does this magic wand do anything or is it just for show? Is that a real skull? How about that alligator? Did you stuff it or did you pay someone to or did you just buy it that way? How come all the candles are dribbly? Do you buy them predribbled so that it looks more spooky? Did this rat just die here or is it decoration? Is it lunch maybe? What is the Council of Elders?" Out of the corner of her eye she saw him tense.

"How do you know about the Council?" He demanded lowly.

"C'mon, I'm not dense I heard Morgana talk about them. What do they do exactly? I bet they're a bunch of crusty old grumps that get together once a week to play cards and swap dentures. Do you have to check in at the gate so they let you into the Old Ghouls Home, do you have to bring your own finger sandwiches or do you have it catered? Sounds like a real _snooze fest_."

"The Council is comprised of the most powerful and respected Witches and Warlocks on the entire globe!" He fumed. " Without the Council there would be chaos abound and mages running rampant."

"Oh so you're like the Neighborhood Association reporting the noisy teenagers and measuring the man eating shrubs on peoples lawns to make sure they meet the requirements in the homeowner's handbook?"

"No, we are the pillars of the magical community. We decide what is right and what is wrong. Who should be monitored for praise or punishment."

"So you're bullies and the 'popular' crowd? I bet you think you're pretty awesome."

"We are like Gods among mortals! Only the strongest, brightest, and best are among our ranks. There is not a single member of the Council who has been inducted without the utmost respect and idolization!"

"No way is your club made up of the best-"

"We are not a 'club' you impudent little-"

"- because you obviously do not have the most awesomely bad ass magic user ever on your team."

"Oh, indeed?" He scoffed morbidly amused. " And prey tell who could_ you_ possibly-"

"Morgana."

His defiance seemed at a stand still as the young woman's name hung in the air. Gosalyn put down the dragon talon she had been swiping around and started a slow trek to the desk. Moloculo was staring her down something different in his gaze from the usual unbridled anger that she was used to. She shrugged lightly.

"It's true. She's super strong. Stronger than Magica DeSpell-"

"**_The fallen star of Eldritch?!_**" He interrupted her in genuine surprise. She drank in the expression on his face as she plopped into the chair across from him, dust billowing up from the cushion as she did so.

"I uh... guess? Mean little old lady? Black hair, ugly dress, thick accent, had a thing for crows and dragons?"

"Hades have my hat for a footbath! Morgana sparred with Magica DeSpell?"

"'Sparred'?Try beat to a pulp! The old hag didn't stand a chance Morgana was all_ 'whoosh'_ and_ 'pewpewpew'_ with her magic and the old broad was like 'ohh no darlink my oulde heeps can't take dis an' my back hurts too'!" The facts may have varied slightly, but to Gosalyn, who had been unconscious stories below that was as good an interpretation as any of the battle. And besides, it wasn't as if he was about to do some Google fact checking. The rapt look on his face was enough to fuel her fire, her plan was working perfectly so far. "Magica was crying like a baby before Morg was even warmed up." The old ghoul eyed her suddenly suspicious but didn't voice his thoughts, oh well she'd just have to keep rolling with it. She reclined in the chair with a sigh. "Yeah, Morgana's pretty amazing. She can do all kinds of sick magic, like make animals appear out of thin air, mend bones and cuts, she can teleport, and even make people forget things. She got me out of school for like..._ever_ until we get back home. Maybe she can convince Mr Roberts to give me an 'A' in math... can you write that down for me so I don't forget? Oh! And she can make light bulbs explode, they're like candles only in glass and not as dribbly or stinky in case ya didn't know. She can also freeze time. Not to mention she has some of the coolest friends ever-"

"S-she has many companions?"

Gosalyn pretended to not notice the hesitant interest in his voice.

"Tons!"She waved dismissively. "They love her to bits. Your kind of people too, zombies and wereducks... stuff like that. She works at a circus, really she's like the boss and it's probably like a family reunion whenever she looks at their creepy faces. She puts on crazy good shows and I gotta tell ya everyone loves her. She's super popular. Hmm, so I guess she kind of is the leader of her own club too-"

"It is not a 'club' it is a Council." He corrected her irritably.

"Same thing." She shrugged. "Whatever you want to call it she's really happy there. Just like you're happy with your club-uh-'Council'."

Moloculo's hard glare met her eyes as if in a challenge but she had been stared down by worse. Besides his heart wasn't in it anymore, she could tell. She leaned back deeper into the chair and turned her attention to the giant portrait that hung over the fireplace.

"She looks like Morgana." She observed out loud.

"She should. That was Ambrosia, her mother."

There was a scratching of pen on paper and she glanced at him. He had busied himself with his paperwork again, his face a mask of concentration. He avoided looking in the painting's direction at all. Gosalyn sensed a sensitive subject and plowed ahead.

"Well that makes sense. I guess she gets her black hair from you? Since her's is brown. She's got Morgana's eyes though. Where is she? On vacation?"

"Dead."

The word hit her like the slamming of a heavy door. For a moment they sat in silence. Even his pen was frozen in the chill of the ugliest word ever used in the hearts of loved ones left behind. She almost lost her nerve and retreated into the hallway but as she looked at his wrinkled face, trying so hard to hide the pain from her she found herself speaking again.

"I'm sorry. My parents are dead too. My real ones I mean... my Grandpa died not too long ago too." She blinked away the sudden sting in her eyes. "Was she sick?"

"She was murdered." His eyes slid menacingly up to hers, the red eye flaring like a vengeful pit of lava.

"By 'Normals'? Is that why you hate us so much?" She shook her head lightly and leaned forward to place her hands on the desktop. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "My father-my real father- he was murdered, my Grandpa too, both by 'Normals' but... I can't hate everyone. I know that there are bad people just like there are good people. I'm sorry that she died, but you can't blame us all for something that one person-"

"Spare me your lecture dreck!"

"**Stop calling me names!** My name is Gosalyn! I don't call you stuff like Prunebeak all the time!" Not outside her own head she added silently to herself. "Not to mention I have been _way_ nicer to you than you have been to me the whole time I've been here!"

"I am a ghoul. I do not have to be 'nice' to lesser races!"

"Ha! Well Morgana is a ghoul and she's-"

"She is mistaken!" His fist, tight and furious, slammed into the desk so hard the inkwell toppled over sending the black across his work like a storm cloud.

"How would you know? I bet I'm the only Normal you've ever talked to! And that's only because Morgana made it so you can't hurt me!"

"I have no desire to talk to any of your kind. It is because of deceptive wretches like you that Ambrosia was slain and Morgana kidnapped!"

"Who're you callin' a- '_kidnapped_'?"

Moloculo snarled like a wounded creature at the memory but this was paydirt. She couldn't back down now, he didn't need encouragement to continue his dusty old voice came out in a devilish rumble as he carried on.

"Yes, when she was a young weak willed teenager the vermin swooped in and prayed on her. A boy from the village lured her into their den and captured her. Just as they had with her mother, taken her into their stinking hovels and held her, waiting for me. Using her as bait. I was too late for Ambrosia I was not going to allow the same outcome again!" His hand pounded the desk once more and she flinched. "The beasts had wanted me to come for her, and I came._ Ohhh I came_. They rose to slay me but I cut them down. They came in waves but I snuffed them out, I would not allow them to spill her blood so I bathed in theirs. Battered and victorious I rescued her. I pulled her from that boy's dead hands only to have her look at me the way that the Normals had. She was under their spell. She accused me of being at fault, of being nothing more than a violent beast. If I hadn't saved her they would have burned her alive, dissected her or worse! What else would she have me do? Yes I killed them! It was us or them and there was not going another Macabre death on their soil. I would kill a thousand more if I had to-"

"Is that when she left?"

"...yes she left." His fury diminished ever so slightly, his shoulders slumping almost imperceptibly as he spoke. "Barely out of diapers and she walked out on everything we'd sacrificed for her. Everything Ambrosia had dreamed of for her, everything Morgana had worked for, threw it to the wind as if it was nothing. I knew she'd regain her senses after the unforgiving world chewed her up and spat her out, but I would not abandon her. I enchanted that key for her... she could have come home anytime."

"But, she didn't."

"No, no she did not. I often thought I heard movement in her chamber, but it was just my traitorous ears picking up a long decimated dream."

"Is that why you wrote the letters and bought her all those birthday presents? You missed her and felt guilty! But don't you see she's back now and you can finally-"

His talons swiped at her in a sudden violent swing but rebounded off an invisible barrier. Gosalyn recoiled into the ancient chair trying to put some distance between them. Moloculo stood like a rising demon from a chasm his eyes blazing.

"_Snooping little devil_." He hissed, his clawed fingers flexing as if aching for her blood. "How dare you violate my home with your devious prying-"

"Well maybe you should learn to lock doors!" She shot back, he wasn't the only one with a temper. "Why don't you just admit it! You missed her! You hurt her and she ran away and you were too stubborn, too proud to try to find her and apologize! You still are and the only reason you're mad at me is because she likes me! You're jealous because she chose to be with us instead of you! But you're doing NOTHING to help her! You're just making things harder for her and pushing her away again!" She motioned to Ambrosia's portrait. "I bet she would have helped!"

The instant the words had left her she knew she had gone too far. Fire poured from his fingertips and even though the blaze turned into a cool mist by the time it reached Morgana's protective barrier she still ran. Angry howls and incantations bellowed behind her as she dashed out of the study and nearly tripped as she bolted down the hall. Her frantic flight was only stopped when she heard a door slam shut so hard that the dust from the rafters rained down like slow motion snowflakes. Gasping for breath she slumped to sit on the cold stone floor. The air felt so old and unforgiving here as it raked across her lungs. The squeaking of Eek and Squeak emerged from wherever they had hidden as she pulled her knees up to her chest. Hot trails of tears slid down her cheeks as she realized she missed Drake so much it hurt.

* * *

Sleep had claimed Drake shortly after he had left Rockerduck that morning. He had submitted reluctantly but as he glanced around at St Canard he was glad he had at least those few precious hours of rest under his belt. The city streets were quiet. The inactivity wasn't so odd when he thought about it. Most citizens probably were at home, sitting around a dinner table with their families recounting their day as the frigid weather was banished behind locked doors. He looked to the snowy sky as traffic waltzed by. His stomach was still uneasy and he could feel the nausea that still lingered. He had no idea what that black ooze he had thrown up was or why Megavolt had recognized it. He just hoped he didn't have to endure that again. It was bad enough just vomiting, but having a stabbing pain rip through his head every time he did was not what he wanted to spend the next few hours doing. So he had decided to take a walk. Honestly it felt like he was dragging his feet. He knew he should be looking into Isabella Glomgold, meeting her, questioning her. He should be learning everything he could about Megavolt or Elmo Sputterspark, but he was hesitating. For some reason he dreaded what he had to do. He couldn't shake the feeling that if he did go on like this, if he did pursue his foes, he wouldn't come out on top, if at all. He rubbed the back of his neck absently as he crossed a street. He wanted to clear his head and wandering the city helped.

He had grown up on these streets. He had spent a winter or two huddled in these alleys, fended for himself, and found his life along the cracked sidewalks. If nothing else, when he was out here he could be Drake. Darkwing had been born in the tower but Drake Mallard had become who he was here. It was almost funny as he thought about it now. So shortly ago he believed that Drake wasn't him, that Darkwing was who he was meant to be. Darkwing was who he truly was and Drake was just a name he used when he needed to cash checks. Now, Drake seemed so much more important. Drake had a family, had a purpose, he had so much to lose, and so much to protect. He sighed and a few snowflakes settled on his eyelashes. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed he had drifted toward the park. The trees had lost their leaves and the ground was already clinging to its new white blanket. But what really caught his eye was a woman. He paused his mindless trek to watch her. The first thing he noticed was how she wasn't dressed for the weather at all. The slender woman was wearing a dress with high heels, and what looked like a lab coat. Her brown hair was messy and wild as she ran blindly through the skeletal trees.

Carefully Drake started to tail her, taking her in even more. Her footwork was sloppy and exhausted, like she'd been running for days. Her legs were scratched and her coat tattered. As he neared she caught her foot on a snow coated root and fell hard onto her hands and knees. He rushed ahead to help get her back on her feet and his ears picked up her devastated sobbing. When he finally crouched beside her he realized she was shaking all over.

"Are you alright?" He asked softly, not wanting to alarm her.

It seemed he had the complete opposite effect. She let out a horrendous sob and her wide, terrified eyes shot to him quickly. She was rather pretty, but not in this hysterical state. He blinked at her in surprise as she suddenly swung at him.

_"No! Don't you touch me!"_ She shrieked through her tears and she managed to push him over to sit on the cold snow. She scrambled to her feet and tried to run again but it seemed her legs had enjoyed the rest and weren't too keen to start up her frenzied pace again. The most she got was an urgent hobble. "I don't care what you do to me -" She continued breathless and sobbing. "-I won't let you take me back there again! I'm going to stop you Duncan."

Before she could limp another step he was on his feet and closed the gap between them on pure adrenaline. Drake seized her arm, wheeled her around, and grabbed her by the shoulders. Her wet eyes were petrified behind her tear smudged glasses and she fought to free herself.

"What did you call me?" He hissed, keeping her in his grip easily.

"Let go of me! Someone please help!" She screamed frantically.

"Stop it! How do you know Duncan Glomgold? Where is he?" He growled, his patience destroyed .

She halted her struggle and slowly met his eyes. The terror that consumed her faded into shock. Her hands quickly found his face and her fingers traced a few scars. He held his firm grip on her and kept his frown in place. The woman's hands hovered on his face as her bill started to quiver and her eyes softened.

"Darkwing…?"

His already tormented stomach twisted further. Before he could give her any answer her tears had started again and her head fell heavily on his chest. He loosened his grip on her and her arms wrapped tightly around him. Drake held his arms away from the delirious woman cautiously as she continued weeping into his coat.

"I've found you…" She gasped through her heavy tears. "I can't believe I've found you."

"Who are you? How do you know who I am?"

"M-my name is Dr. Rhoda Dendrin…" She confessed painfully. "I used to work in the Glomgold Botanical Research Facility with Dr. Reginald Bushroot."

"Bushroot?" Drake repeated sharply.

"Yes!" Her eyes met his pleadingly. "You have to help him! Please! You have to stop this!"

"Dr. Dendrin, slow down. Bushroot is dead." He said firmly.

"No, no he regenerated months ago!" The note of inconsequential dismissal in her voice made his frown deepen. Upon seeing his reaction her eyes widened. "No, you don't understand! He's alright now. If he isn't exposed to too many plants at once he can carry on just like he was before the accident."

"You helped him?" He asked suspiciously.

"Please, you have to trust me. I have no one else to turn to." A thick tear ran down her face as she shivered before him. Her breath was coiling away in sad little puffs, she looked so pitiful he could barely stand to look at her. "You don't understand, I can't give up now. I've been running away for days." Her eyes glazed over in a new burst of fright and she whipped her head around searching the area in panic.. "Oh…" She whimpered weakly and tightened her hug on him. "You've got to hide me."

"Hide you? From who? Your cohort Bushroot?" He said bitterly, why did she have to cling to him so tight?

"Reggie wouldn't hurt me… ever." She said quickly. "But Duncan would. I had to leave, I had to try to stop him. But he sent-" she trailed off and he felt her shudder.

"Someone's following you?"

"He... He's got Quackerjack chasing me." She sobbed into his now soaked jacket.

"Quackerjack." He repeated numbly, his eyes scoured the still trees. The last thing he wanted was to run into the jester again so soon.

"I'm sorry." She wept. "I'm so sorry…"

"Don't be sorry! Just tell me what the hell is going on!" He snapped harshly.

"No. Not here, it's not safe." She breathed, her eyes meeting his. "Please you've got to hide me. I can help you… please you've got to help me save Reggie."

"Hide you? Listen, how do I know this isn't some kind of trap?"

Rhoda's face neared his and he leaned away instinctively.

"He wants to capture you." She said in a terrified whisper. Drake felt his forehead crinkle but didn't resist when she moved closer to hiss in his ear. She spoke like the words were poison she had to be rid of quickly. "Duncan wants to kidnap you, I don't know why. But he's lied to Reggie and Bud, he wants them to hate you like he does."

"Bud?" He repeated confused. She didn't seem to hear him, too preoccupied with her message to notice.

"Reggie knows better, he doesn't trust him like the others do. But he can't stand up to him alone! Please you have to help him! I know where he is. Where their main base is. They won't be able to stop you from taking him if they don't know you're coming. And Duncan is going to be away from the FOWL building until tomorrow. I have a plan Darkwing but you have to help me. You have to help me before they take you too!"

"Wait-"

"No! We can't stay here, they'll find me!"

"Rhoda, please calm down." He urged but she broke down into heaving sobs again. He needed answers, and she might have them if only he could get her to carry on a conversation instead of melting down. "Rhoda, look at me." He said firmly. Her leaking eyes reluctantly met his. He couldn't help but feel sorry for her, she was an absolute train wreck. "I'm going to help you, but I need you to pull it together."

She nodded, hiccupping on her own breath. There suddenly came the sound of feet running up the path behind him. Rhoda tensed and clung to him even tighter. As the sound neared he turned his head to see a jogger approaching. The runner gave them a strange look as he continued on. Drake couldn't blame him, not with the way this battered woman was clinging to him positively distraught in the middle of a frozen park, well he would have stared too. As the runner moved out of sight he glanced back at her.

"See? You're okay." He offered hoping to calm her.

Rhoda's eyes slid to him slowly before they rolled back into her head. He had to scramble to catch her as she fainted. He held onto her cold limp form, scooping her into his arms. He couldn't help but feel wary at how convenient this appeared. Somehow he believed she was telling the truth. But what if she was part of a plot she had no idea she was a pawn in? Were they watching him now? Would they let her go just to see if he would take her back to Darkwing Tower? It was the only place Negaduck hadn't found yet. It was his only stronghold, Was that what he hoped to gain? Well, he wasn't about to give him anymore cards. Drake moved through the trees to the street where a taxi met him almost immediately. With a strange look from the driver he put the motionless woman in the back seat and named a location.

* * *

Students scattered as Morgana ran through the hallways of Eldritch Academy, her feet remembered the way to the lecture hall that was her destination. The small silver key she clutched in her hand felt more like a time bomb she needed defused the timer ticking dangerously low. The Golem room came into her line of sight and she was nearly out of breath when she threw open the classroom's door. Tall tinted glass windows barely cast any light in this dank locale, when half your students burst into flames in sunlight measures are taken to make sure that light is scarce. Once her eyes adjusted she stopped in her tracks, the room was deserted. Immediately she felt her temper flare, had she been lied to? Were they sending a lynch mob in any minute to swarm her? Her gaze stopped on the teacher's desk, a bag and lesson plan remained and the heat drained from her. A scraping sound tore her attention away from the abandoned belongings and she found that the room was not as deserted as she originally thought. A small ghoulish girl was frozen in the act of standing from her desk. Fear was etched on her cyclopic face as Morgana blinked. Finally she regained herself enough to address the distressed child.

"Hello. You don't have to be afraid, sorry I didn't mean to scare you."

"S-she told me to wait here until she could find a proctor for my detention. Are you her?"

"Detention?" Morgana repeated curiously. Sizing up the child she hardly seemed the type to be a trouble maker, and after spending so much time with Gosalyn she was pretty keen on the signals. This little wisp of a child looked like she would have fainted if she was accused of speaking out of turn. The little ghoul's large golden eye glistened with tears as she nodded hurriedly in shame. Suddenly feeling wretched for the child Morgana approached her, motioning for her to sit back down. Obediently the girl flopped into place.

"My mom and dad are going to be so mad at me." Squeaked the little voice.

"It can't be that bad, what happened?"

"I didn't want to!" She proclaimed loudly. "But Vlad dared me to and said if I didn't that he'd tell everyone that I love the Krypt Kickers and **I DON'T**! They're_ so_ gross and lame and only_ babies_ like them!" Morgana simply watched as the child went into a fit of hysterics rattling off a list of names of people who would presumably never speak to her again if such a vile rumor started. "Not to mention everyone is already making fun of me because of my epic failure of Familiar conjur-" the girl suddenly clapped her hands over something on her desk her cheeks reddening. "-oh I almost died only_ babies_ have spiders as familiars." Morgana could not stop the frown from spreading across her face, her eyes looking to the child's hands to see a hairy spider leg was trying to work it's way out of the girl's fingers.

"But what did you do?"She asked firmly.

"I asked her-" The girl lowered her voice and looked around hurriedly as if the teacher in question had been hiding nearby waiting to strike. After she insured that they were safe from faculty eavesdroppers she beckoned Morgana closer. Her interest piqued the sorceress leaned in. When the girl spoke again it was barely a whisper. "I asked her what happened to her eye."

"Well Ms. Stormraven,"A velvety voice rang along the room tearing Morgana's reality of the situation into pieces. "-I do hope you are prepared to write lines until your fingers cram-" The voice trailed off into stunned silence.

Slowly Morgana ripped her eyes away from the frightened child to the paralyzed teacher that was staring at her. As a child Tanya Spellbinder had been lovely, as a teenager she had been beautiful, but as a grown woman she was stunning. Morgana felt like the pit of her stomach fell out as full realization dawned. It was Tanya. Tanya was the teacher. The one who could do the Linked Lock Charm. The girl who had made her life hell, who had practically destroyed her who had hated her so much that she tried to devastate her future, was the one person who she had to ask for help. She couldn't help but stare at the dark black gashes that covered the left side of the woman's face, the eye scarred over, lost completely. Morgana had done that. She finally released her held breath in a concentrated hiss. No wonder why Greytalon hadn't want her to come. A dark figure shifted out from behind the gaping Spellbinder , until it moved she hadn't even noticed it had been there. On closer inspection it was a man draped in black robes another swath of black fabric covered all but his orange eyes from view. Velken Vonkarumah . As badly as Tanya had hurt her, that handsome young smiling face had been the girl's blade. She had used forbidden magic on both of them in retaliation, disfiguring them both and seeing them now she wished she could run. Run away from this awful place before it killed her. The initial shock fading she could feel the teeth of the key biting into her palm, see the glittering crystal on her finger and she steeled herself. They couldn't scare her anymore. She couldn't run.

"Tanya,"The sound of the name in her voice seemed to jar the stunned Spellbinder.

"_**You**_!" Tanya shrieked as threw the arm full of books she was carrying to the ground. A furious screech erupted from her as she snaked her arms through the air and sent a ball of blue flame at Morgana.

The child, apparently named Stormraven, gasped and Morgana flicked her wrist causing the spell to explode against the far right wall of the class. Before she could even speak another blast of magical fire was soaring toward her. Morgana deflected it just as easy the second time and started her steady stride toward the two figures at the front of the class. Stalagmites shot up from the ground around her like jagged shark teeth barring her path, they shattered into water droplets with a clap. A new spell, fast and furious, careened toward her and another and another. Each one rendered useless with barely a blink.

"How DARE you show your rotten face here again you-"

"Don't." Morgana snapped cruelly. "Don't you even start with me."

"Stay away from us or I will make your rancid skin melt right off your disgusting face!"

The lines of grout on the floor suddenly sprang up like whips toward her. The dark lines were morphed into barbed wire that lashed around madly trying to tear to her to shreds. Morgana eyed them coldly, Tanya was always so wickedly creative like that but it was useless. A smug smile slowly crept across her face as she flicked her fingers at each thrashing line and they fell to the ground as useless noodles.

"I don't think you can Tanya. Or you wouldn't be wasting time with these parlor tricks."

"Stay away! I won't let you take him!"

Puzzlement stopped Morgana's progress completely. She stared at the scowling Tanya dumbfounded.

_"'Him?'"_ She echoed.

"I always knew you would come back for him. You were so jealous, so disgustingly infatuated. You couldn't live knowing he was happy with me could you!? It was your only motivation in ruining my life. You can't fool me Morgana Macabre! If you think you can just march back in here after all these years and try to reclaim Velken you will just-"

"Velken?!" Morgana interrupted loudly. She felt it start in her stomach, undoing all the fear and anger that had washed over her in this morbid little reunion until it bubbled up to her mouth and her laughter echoed off the walls. She only laughed harder when she saw how much this reaction had made Tanya's scowl deepen. "You think I came back for Velken?"

"You can't deny it."The woman sounded a tad less sure of herself. "You were obsessed with him."

"'Obsessed'?" She snorted. "Tanya-" her eyes slid to the dark figure beside the furious Tanya and all amusement drained from her as those orange eyes narrowed to slits. "...Velken. Listen, I didn't come here for any of this. I, no, we were all truly horrible to each other back then, I didn't come back for revenge or to gloat. Can we just move on-"

"Move on?!" Tanya's shrill voice assaulted her ears. "Move on!? It's all your fault that I am STUCK here! Your fault that my life is this pathetic! You took my eye!"

With a sweeping motion Tanya pulled the sheet of white away from the scars that Morgana had only but glimpsed earlier. For the first time she fully saw the damage she'd inflicted on the girl. The large black scar ran from the middle of her forehead to cheekbone. The dark scaly skin somehow looked like it was still raw and Morgana somehow knew that it would probably still bleed if not cared for properly on a daily basis. Her stomach knotted up at the very thought.

"Move on." Tanya chuckled morbidly. "I'll move on when we're even. An eye for an eye." Her fingers started a complicated pattern in the air, a high level incantation spilling out of her mouth.

**"Stop."**

Tanya's movement froze against her will and Morgana closed the remaining distance between them. Before she got too close Velken stepped protectively in front of Tanya.

"Just go. Away." growled his mangled accented voice. "Why you come back to school now? You say not to gloat. I say to admire your work."He ripped the swath of fabric from his face and she recoiled. Oozing sores and cuts so deep the bone shone through rotten flesh covered his face.

"I-I am so sorry. Velken I had no idea..."

"You are pleased now? Yes? Now go away." He covered his face once more.

"I can't. That is, I can't go not without Tanya's help." She released the woman who glowered at her with more hatred then ever.

"And why-" Tanya seethed,"...would I _eve_r help you?"

"If you don't, I will be forced to stay around here for quite a while. The sooner you help me, the sooner I'll leave and never come back."

"No."

"Tanya, do you ever feel sorry about what you did to me? Yes, I know what I did to you was awful but it is nothing compared to what you tried to do to me." Morgana locked her eyes on the angry face. "From the moment you found out that I might amount to something you lashed out at me every chance you got."

"And you got your revenge didn't you?" She motioned to the grotesque scar. "How wonderful for you . So glad to know you sleep better now that you're so damned wonderful! Do you even realize that you ruin every life you touch? Even your father was stripped of everything but that ridiculous mansion of his after you ran off. How ironic that he finally reclaims his life that you show back up to poison him again."

"Shut up." Morgana snapped crossly. "I do not have time to listen to you. I'm sorry that I hurt both of you. Really I am, even though you probably won't believe me it is true." A tingling sensation started in her fingertips and she tried to ignore it as she held out the precious key. "Please, all I need is for you to use the Linked Lock Charm on this to it's home lock and I swear you'll never see me again."

Tanya turned her venomous glare onto the key, but Velken put his hand on her shoulder.

"Do it." He urged her."Then she will be gone."

Tanya's singular red eye moved away from the key to Morgana's face.

"No." She stated firmly.

"What do you want from me?"Morgana flared angrily."You two tried to destroy me so my magic protected me and as a result I was exiled! How can you stand there in judgement of me when I had no premeditated plans to harm either of you which, may I remind you, is _exactly_ what you two did. So tell me Tanya, what precisely, do I owe you?"

"I will give you your damn key. When you give me my eye back."

The prickling in her hand turned into a fire and Morgana's patience was shot. She balled her hand into a fist.

"FINE!" She snarled and before either of the ghouls could react Morgana punched Tanya square in the face. Her knuckles came away with the flaky remnants of that vicious black scar embedded in her feathers, smears of red twinged the pale white. She shook the feeling back into her hand as Velken rushed to the crumpled sobbing heap on the floor. She scowled at the both of them, so this was it. More wasted time, still no closer to getting home. God she hated this place. Righteous anger burned in her and she turned around to confront the little Stormraven girl who was cowering under her desk. She pointed at her. "Little girl. Spiders are not familiars for babies. I have a spider familiar and he is one of the most important friends I've ever had. Be good to yours."

She turned on her heel to leave until a hand seized her by the arm and she spun around to defend herself. Two blood red eyes stared at her and her train of thought completely derailed. Tanya was healed. There was no sign of the disfiguring mass left on the woman's face and the tingling in her fingers started up again.

"Fix Velken. I will make your stupid key."Tanya pleaded breathlessly.

Morgana was surprised by how easy it was to repair the mangled face and even though he had regained his good looks she knew he would never hold a flame to the one she was missing. She nearly sobbed when Tanya pushed the little piece of metal back into her hand the surface still crackling with the intricate patterns of the charm. There wasn't another moment wasted in that awful place, before the half hearted threats of Tanya could even reach her she was already running out of the room. She had it. Finally, she could see Drake. She was going home.

* * *

Darkwing Duck and all related Characters are (c) Disney

The rest are mine.

References to Her Beaten Path (posted chapters and future) are abundant in this chapter. Hopefully it's not too confusing for those of you who haven't read that one. That being said I really hope to get this story finished. I won't make any promises but my goal is to have it done by the end of this year. Thanks for sticking around guys. Next chapter should be up in a week. :)


	11. Infiltration

Chapter Eleven

Infiltration

The heater in the rundown hotel room rattled into life, it leaked a strange odor into the air along with the sparse heat and she stirred. Drake sat up straight in the faded and stained armchair as Rhoda blearily opened her eyes. A calm moment passed between them before she flung herself upright and made to throw aside the covers and he interjected loudly in hopes of avoiding more hysterics.

"You're safe! I'm Darkwing not Duncan we met in the park and you were saying that you knew where his hideout was!"

She stared at him and he could almost see the details of the last few hours falling into place in her frazzled brain. Once again he felt pity for this worn out woman, he could only imagine the terrors she had faced. He wondered if her plight was perhaps any less dire than his. The bed engulfed her once more as she collapsed back into the pillows and a thought danced into his head: Her danger was probably thicker than his. It was a sobering thought, he had at least been training himself his whole life to be able to withstand this kind of-well when he thought about it, it was almost as if he had always known it would come to this ultra-violence. But this fragile scientist in front of him, how could she have possibly known? He noticed she was examining the room and had to fight to keep his face from reddening.

"There is a mirror on the ceiling." She observed thickly. "...and a coin slot attached to the bed."

"No one will look for either of us here I can assure you. This is one of the few places where a guy can carry an unconscious woman in without question and even if the lobby is full no one will have seen them."

"There's even a swing-"

"I think we have more important things to discuss right now." he blurted out.

"Y-yes." She patted the pockets of her lab coat and finally produced a tattered piece of paper. "This is a map-" He snatched it from her before she could finish. "-of the F.O.W.L. building they've made their headquarters. It's front is a-"

"A law firm?"

"Yes. He's set up at least a dozen false businesses in St. Canard alone to act as operation bases. You were in one of them yourself, they're so completely indistinguishable from the outside it's no wonder S.H.U.S.H. has no idea. This one however is their current main base. There is an armory there, levels and levels of vehicles and laboratories galore, all below street level. Completely under the radar . That's where Reggie is. Darkwing you have to help me get him out of there. You wouldn't believe the atrocities he's had us perform down there.'

Drake finally tore his eyes away from the little hand drawn floor plans to look into her haunted features. He felt his stomach squirm sickly confronted with that expression.

"What did you do?" His voice was barely above a whisper but she paled as if he'd hollered at the top of his lungs. Her head bobbed from side to side her eyes losing focus as if an instant replay was flashing before her eyes. If she continued on like this he was sure she'd collapse again, he reached out and put a comforting hand on her shoulder and her eyes locked on him regaining some semblance of normalcy. "Rhoda, I need to know. If I'm going in there I need to know what to expect; what's waiting for me."

"It was us." The words droned out of her mouth hitting the air and seeming to linger. "We couldn't defy him or he'd kill us. He threatened us until Reggie found a way to revive the monster-"

"Bushroot brought Quackerjack back to life?" He croaked.

"You have to understand if he didn't then Duncan would have skinned me alive to motivate him, he would have done it slowly like a butcher in his shop preparing-"

"How."

"There was a serum that Reggie invented. The one that brought him back after he was m-mur- after he died. Duncan thought that if Quackerjack's corpse was treated with the serum that he would be able to come back. But it doesn't work like that the serum only worked on Reggie because he was so mingled with the plant life in the ground that it melded him back together. After Duncan made it clear that he was not going to accept the answer as 'impossible' Reggie went back to the drawing board and created another serum that he thought might work. It had no effect on dead tissue however but Duncan was intrigued. He took the sample to use on his own test subject." She shook her head and waved her hand lightly. "That's a whole other story but in the end the serum didn't quite work on live tissue and a new creature was created. It's a dog made entirely out of water, he calls himself the Liquidator but he used to be Bud Flood-"

"The guy from the commercials?"

"That's him. I don't know to what extent Duncan plans on using him but be on the lookout for him. He's been in the building with Reggie ever since I left. Time hadn't blunted Duncan's demands and finally in a fit of desperation Reggie attempted a transfusion of his own blood-" she shivered, "-and it worked. Quackerjack's body started to repair itself slowly at first but within a few days it was completely healed. It was just shy of a week when he woke up. Duncan, oh Duncan was just... smiling. Grinning like a shark."

"Does Quackerjack have Bushroot's power over plants?"

"No, he wasn't exposed to them as closely as Reggie had been in either life or death. However put him around too many plants and he'll get one bitch of a headache. Which is why I was hiding in the park, he would never set foot there."

"If I manage to kill him again will he regenerate and return the favor? It seems like your friend 'Reggie' has no problem cheating death-" The last word caught in his throat and suddenly he felt as if he had been doused in ice water. Rhoda, reading his expression, put her hand over his.

"No Quackerjack won't come back on his own, but you see why Duncan has been holding Reggie don't you? I can see that you do. In his veins is immortality." She squeezed his hand softly. "That's why you can't wait. That is why we need to get Reggie out of there tonight. I've already wasted too much time and Duncan will be back in the building and hunkered down for good tomorrow. This is the only chance you'll have to infiltrate their base and get him out. We need to take this trump card from him, Reggie will help us from there I know he will."

"Why didn't you take this to S.H.U.S.H. the instant you escaped?"

"Would you trust S.H.U.S.H? Aren't they hunting you right now? If they don't trust you why in the world would they ever trust me at my word alone? Then say they did? It would be a full scale invasion that Duncan would smell coming a mile away. By the time they got there everything would be burned and abandoned. No, it has to be small, it has to be sneaky, it has to be_ you._"

"What if they set you up? What if your precious Bushroot was just feeding you what you wanted to hear and see to lure me there. You said they wanted to capture me and he's not exactly one of my friends. Why should he care if they lock me up? Why wouldn't he break out on his own?"

"He wouldn't use me like that!" Rhoda's voice was suddenly strong and angry. Her eyes were alight with defiance and it was the first time he'd seen her as he supposed she normally looked. The way she looked at him now almost made him spit out a hasty apology, he bit it back but he felt that was all the answer he needed. She had unshakable faith in Reginald Bushroot's moral compass in this situation and if what she was saying was true he would have to trust him too.

"If I remember correctly Bushroot is liable to fly into a berserker rage when he gets swarmed by too many vegetables or whatever, what the hell am I supposed to do with him? The instant he gets outside he'll feel the fresh air and go back to being ballistic won't he?"

"See that's where it being winter will help, most of the trees will be in a state of hibernation and of course there is this-" from another pocket a mean looking syringe was forced in his hand. "Use this on him and load him into one of the armored cars in the garage level. He should have the keys by now. You'll have to disarm the tracking device on your own and clear the security at the doors before you escape. Reggie will be out cold for hours and then you'll just have to get him to a warehouse on the far side of the island nearest the water. It's address is on that paper. It's far enough from the park and mainland that he should be able to keep his composure there when he comes to. Then we can come up with the next phase."

"You have put a lot of thought into this-" He twisted the syringe in his hands thoughtfully. "-how long have you been plotting your respective escapes?"

"Months."

"Just one question, why does it have to be me?"

A slip of paper came out of yet another pocket and he couldn't help but wonder what else she was stashing in that coat. He could tell exactly what the paper was before he even took it. His shoulders heaved in a sigh as she gave him an almost apologetic smile.

"How's your acting?"

A sad little chuckle left him as he examined the dry cleaning receipt in his grip. His icy eyes narrowed with a hint of delight and revenge. It appeared it was his turn to play imposter.

* * *

The dreary silence of Macabre castle was torn asunder when Morgana threw open the front door. It was so sudden an entrance that Gosalyn jumped in startled surprise from her lookout on the grand central stair case. The dreary light from the outside world framed the slender sorceress like a halo, the dust particles danced around her like fireflies, it seemed all that was missing was the blare of triumphant music through trumpets. The child leapt to her feet in a burst of joy, she had never been more happy to see Morgana in her life-well except maybe that one time when Drake nearly died after his fight with Quackerjack, or when he'd been stabbed in the chest, or maybe that time when she saved her and Gizmoduck from- anyway- she was very pleased to see her. She practically flew down the stairs to meet her and by the way she was clutching her hand to her chest protectively it had appeared her little adventure had been a success.

"Is that the key? Can we go home?"

She watched Morgana's fingers strengthen the grip on the bit of metal and the woman locked her with a look that made her stomach twist in knots. Something was wrong. Her ears barely registered the sound of the doors to Moloculo's study creeping open. No doubt to eavesdrop, she thought bitterly.

"Morg, what's up? He's all right isn't he?"

"Gosalyn, I think for right now it'd be best if you-"

"_ISN'T HE_?" The girl's panicked voice echoed along the castle walls and back until it sounded as if the entire space was filled with hundreds of her. "You have to tell me! He's my dad and if he's in trouble we have to go back and help him!"

Morgana swiftly knelt before her and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. The serious tone in her eyes made Gosalyn feel faint. Her eyes stung with the threat of tears and when the witch spoke it was soft and kind.

"Gos he's-well truthfully I don't know exactly but he is okay. I promise you he's all right. I won't lie to you though I've got a very bad feeling that he's about to do something very_, very_, stupid. I can't really explain it to you but it feels like he's about to go crowd surfing through barbed wire. I'm sorry but I'm going to have to ask you to stay here for just a little bit long-"

"No! No I can't! I won't! You can't make stay here with** him!**" She shot an accusing glare at Moloculo who straightened up proudly. Her eyes returned to Morgana and she clasped her hands pleadingly her eyes aching all the more. "What's going on? What's your juju telling you about this stupid thing he's going to do? I can help. I swear I can! Please don't leave me here. I want to see him I-" she was secretly mortified to hear her voice crack. Morgana's hand pushed her copper bangs away from her nearly leaking eyes.

"Sweetheart, I know, I'm sorry. I won't be gone long. I'm going to find him and make sure he's okay. Then I will drag him back here if I have to. We will both be coming to get you I promise."

"Who enchanted the key?" Moloculo's voice punctured the conversation like the arrival of an uninvited guest. Gosalyn watched with fascination as Morgana's tender features warped into a mask of stern anger, the look she reserved for any communication with her father. The memories of her conversation with the old ghoul washed back over her like an icy wave. She now knew why Morgana looked at him like that.

"What does it matter to you?" Morgana's harsh voice stabbed back.

"As it is in one of my locks that the thing will be placed I have a right to know whose handiwork it is."

"Oh don't worry father, it's not the work of a low class nobody that the neighbors will gossip about. I'll have you know it's a Spellbinder hex."

It seemed as if an electric shock went through the old bean pole and his eyes nearly bugged out of his head.

"Have you lost your senses?' He gasped. "Morgana it is most likely to open a portal to the netherworld or the vacuum of space!" He regained his cool composure suddenly a superior look engulfed his face but if Gosalyn looked hard enough there was just a hint of relief in him as well. "It is decided. I forbid you to use it."

Morgana glared at her father but Gosalyn could sense that she was concerned herself. More history lurked there in that name and their reactions but she didn't care anymore. The longing for home had evolved into an aching need. Before anymore words were exchanged or motions made she snatched the key from Morgana's distracted grip and sprinted up the stairs. The Macabres' vexed voices called after her to stop but if this key was a phony she was willing to take that chance. She'd rather be incinerated by a blast of hellfire than listen to another word from Moloculo's rotten mouth, he would try to keep them here as long as he could and she would not allow it. She rammed into the door of Morgana's room forcing it open and raced to the closet where she jammed the key in the lock. Miraculously the keyhole warped to fit and Morgana spilled into the room just as the mechanism clicked. It seemed like the entire world held its breath as Gosalyn violently yanked the door open. 537 Avian Way slowly unfolded before her and it was so welcome a sight that she nearly fell to the floor to kiss the carpet.

"Dad!" Morgana's hands caught her mid-dash seizing her before she could even pass the threshold. She was forced to turn around and was face to face with the stern looking woman.

"You have no idea how lucky you are that key worked like it was supposed to." Gosalyn opened her mouth to argue but Morgana's eyes flashed a warning. "Just listen to me. Drake has run himself ragged to protect us. Right now he's in trouble so deep that I can feel it which is not a good sign. If we both rush through that door there is a very good possibility we'd end up the same way we were when Negaduck had us. How many times can you allow yourself to be dangled in front of your father's face like bait before you catch on? Gosalyn, we need to be smart about this. You have got to let me do this alone right now. You have got to hang tight here until we come and get you. You are out of his reach here which means you are safe and believe me that is the most important thing on Drake's mind right now. Please understand I am not trying to punish you, I'm doing this to protect both of you."

Gosalyn sighed heavily and looked forlornly at the peaceful looking house beyond the door. Morgana was right, she knew that. Her gaze casually drifted to Moloculo who was hovering outside the bedroom door observing with tight lipped concentration. Their eyes met for an instant before he scowled wholeheartedly at her and stormed off. The sooner she left this place the better, even if she did have to wait a bit longer for the coast to be clear.

"Okay. Go ahead. But you better be quick." She huffed and was pulled into a tight hug.

"I'll bring him back safe. Count on it. You just stay here until we come for you and then we can figure out the details."

"Fine." She grunted.

Morgana released her quickly and swept to the dresser where the Macabre key had been discarded and scooped it up. Her fingers plucked the Mallard house key from the lock and slid it into her back pocket. Without so much as a backwards glance Morgana passed through the door and gave the knob a tug behind her. That's when Gosalyn made her move. With the prowess of a professional baseball star she launched herself into a slide toward the closing door and managed to lodge her foot in the crack. She held her breath until she heard Morgana slam the front door closed and gingerly unlaced the shoe so she could carefully extract her foot. As soon as her foot came free she was assaulted by two sets of wings flapping at her face.

"Hey! Hey! Hey!" She shooed the bats away, their accusing eyes starting her down. "I'm not going to use it! I just have it open for insurance reasons okay?" She almost believed it but she knew if they didn't come back soon she'd use it for sure.

* * *

So far so good. Drake, or rather "Duncan", had managed to gain entry to the building Rhoda had mapped out for him. She had been right on all predictions so far. No one even questioned him, rarely did anyone even dare to make eye contact. He did notice there weren't many Eggmen lurking about but he supposed it would detract from the credible facade of a law firm if there were. There were some burly looking security guards peppered throughout the main level though and he was sure if his disguise where any different they would have gladly pounced on an intruder. No one suspected a thing, not yet anyway and he wondered if his luck would hold out. He stalked into an elevator and held his frown in place until the doors closed. The moment he was out of sight he ran through the directions Rhoda had given him and felt around the panel that the floor buttons were affixed. With little effort the faceplate slid down and an entourage of new floors where revealed. His finger traced the spheres until he found the one she had told him was the laboratory level where her ferny friend was being held and he jammed his thumb into it. The elevator lurched and started its descent with routine ease. Drake felt his pockets doing an inventory of the few weapons he'd been able to conceal on his person: A few smoke bombs, a knife, and of course the syringe for Bushroot. The shiny golden doors caught his eye and his reflection stared back, he didn't look the part at all he thought. He had far too many cuts and bruises , he couldn't imagine Negaduck showing up here with any signs of injury let alone bags under his eyes. Even the way he looked in the stolen suit seemed wrong although it fit him like a glove. Drake averted his eyes irritably. Maybe he just wanted to make himself believe he looked nothing like his nemesis. The reflection nagged at him again and he felt disgust twist his insides. He looked exactly like him, there was no lying to himself. He narrowed his eyes at the thought and the illusion melded even greater. So much so that when the doors opened prematurely a young F.O.W.L. employee nearly shrieked before he retreated hurriedly proclaiming his apologies. As the elevator started its journey again he decided to keep his eyes closed for the rest of the trip.

When the desired floor was reached the doors slid open with an out of place happy "ding" and Drake looked into the depths of the subterranean lair. The artificial light was bright but the walls seemed to suck it all away. Red paint covered the sides of the corridor and the tiled floor was a glimmering ebony. He couldn't help but recall the stark white of S.H.U.S.H.'s headquarters and a sardonic smile crept across his face as he thought of the respective buildings as Heaven and Hell. He returned his gaze to the elevator buttons. The garage was twelve floors above this, he made a mental note and with a bracing breath he set foot in the hallway. There wasn't much he could currently see, the hall had a turn ahead and his apprehension started to mount. All he had to do was find Bushroot, he reminded himself. It would hopefully be and in and out operation but as he turned the corner he heard the elevator whirr away an ominous feeling crept over him. This was a bad move. He had made a huge mistake, but there was no going back. The corridor led to a series of passages each leading in three opposite directions. He just had to find Bushroot he echoed, so far so good. Momentarily dazed he picked the left path and nothing but the sound of his own footsteps kept him company. A massive door took up the end of the hall and a vibrant biohazard warning sign relayed the fact that he had chosen the wrong way. An aggravated sigh escaped him and he made his way back to the junction. He was trying to recall which way Rhoda had told him to take when the door down the center aisle opened and exactly what he hoped wouldn't happen, did.

Quackerjack stared at him stock still. For a small exciting moment he thought that the disguise would fool him too but a twisted grin traveled across the jester's face broadcasting that he was not hoodwinked.

"Well, well, well, what are _you_ doing here?"

Drake pulled his concealed blade into his hand as the clown started his careful approach. He tried to angle himself toward the only remaining path without taking his eyes off his foe.

"You're not supposed to be playing dress up in here. When the Boss is away too how very insightful of you." He was steadily growing closer. "Not very talkative tonight are you Drakey? What's the matter?" His eyes twinkled maliciously. "Scared?"

As the word rolled off his tongue Quackerjack ran at him full throttle. Within the tatters of the straight jacket sleeves Drake saw the glint of metal. There was nothing he could do to prevent it. He would have to dance with the madman again.

A flash of steel came arcing toward him and Drake brought his own knife up to veer it off course. The clang of the blades was barely quieted before the jester's other razor sharp knife came sweeping up from below. Steel hit steel once more and the force of the blow rattled his arm up to the elbow and made his teeth clack together. The feeling shook the plan from his brain as his priorities wheeled around to: survival. This wasn't a game. Quackerjack was obviously not pulling any punches. His opponent's smiling face was quickly obscured by the scissor like slash he deployed in Drake's direction. Impulse made him duck beneath the strike and he heard the swish of the weapons shred the air. From his crouched position he had a clear shot at his foe's exposed stomach and his foot shot out for it. The action was apparently unexpected because the hit landed and caused the jester to fall back. Before Drake could rejoice Quackerjack turned the stumble into a tumble and did a showy flip forward. The acrobatics landed him close enough for Drake to smell his decaying breath. The villain leaned closer keeping an uncomfortably small space between them.

"Boo."

Too late Drake realized his leg was still extended from the kick and Quackerjack was upon it. The fiend dropped to his knees pinning the leg between them and contorted his body to try to snap it in half. Panic flooded Drake's brain and he shifted his grip on his knife and took a jab at the snickering face before him. The pressure on his limb was released as the clown retreated to his feet and Drake was on his not a second later. For a moment they stared each other down, neither dared to make the first move. Had this been a western, Drake supposed, a tumbleweed would have ambled serenely by. The standoff ended when Quackerjack flicked his wrist and one of his blades soared straight at Drake's chest. He managed to pull off a sidelong dodge but the next attack was already upon him. The criminal's remaining knife came down at him and he attempted to back step out of its path when a tug at his neck impeded his progress. The knife skimmed past him and Drake noticed that Quackerjack had seized the end of Duncan's tie. Before he could cut himself loose Quackerjack used the shiny bit of fabric to drag him into a stranglehold. He heard himself gag as the pressure of the tie and the madman's forearm cut off his air supply. Through blurred vision he saw the jester's knife make a beeline for his chest. Drake met it with the flat side of his own blade and struggled under the strength of his attacker.

"Stop struggling and go beddie bye Darkwing-"Quackerjack sang in his ear with a grunt of effort. "-or I'll just get some demerits on my record for slicing you into slimy little pieces."

Reflexive tears burned his eyes as he pushed against his assailant. He couldn't hold out much longer, already his lungs were screaming for air. In desperation his free hand shot out and grabbed one of the tails of the jester's cap and pulled. Quackerjack let out a startled yelp as his head jerked to the side and the pair of them crashed into the wall. Drake slammed his heel onto the dazed jester's foot repeatedly. If he didn't break out of this vise grip soon he may as well had just delivered himself to this building on a silver platter. He shot out his elbow at ribs, tried to jam his fingers into an eye and all he was rewarded with was a tightened grip. Desperation set in and he used both hands to pry the jester's knife wielding hand away from his chest and quickly reached into a pocket. He closed his eyes and held his remaining breath as he smashed the smoke bomb against Quackerjack's forehead. A scream rang through the hall and in a haze he felt himself fall to all fours and his throat ached with each gasped breath.

Drake hobbled to his feet and made a mad dash in the direction of the far door. It was industrial looking and had a keypad lock. After a momentary lapse of horror he recalled that Rhoda had told him the code. He burst out of the rolling blue fog and collided with the door unable to get his legs to stop their frenzied pace in time. Quackerjack was still hacking on the smoke behind him as his fingers flew to disarm the lock. A pleasant beep announced his victory and he wrenched the door open. The lab was a sterile white except for the glowing green of plant life scattered throughout, there was a predominant lack however, of Reginald Bushroot. A snarl sounded behind him and he was smashed to the ground. A fist full of his hair feathers were gripped and his face was slammed into those clean tiles repeatedly. Blind with pain he managed to wriggle out of the enraged villain's grip and knock him off. Drake tried to scramble to his feet but was instantly knocked on his back where the jester pinned him to the floor by his throat. The mad eyes were wide with unbridled, unblinking malice as the strong fingers started crushing his windpipe once more.

"I'm going to show you how painful it is to die Darkwing! I am going to make sure that you do. Then when you're dead I'm going to chop you up into pieces and mail them to Gosalyn for Christmas! WRAPPED WITH BIG RED BLOODY BOWS!" He shrieked gleefully at the image he'd depicted.

Drake's hand grabbed the syringe from its safe hold and brought it around for the jester's jugular. The crippling pressure was removed from his neck as both of Quackerjack's hands had been deployed to stop the needle. With a crack his elbow connected with the clown's bill and in the momentary confusion he was able to remove himself from his foe's clutches. As his retreat was almost complete the syringe was pried from his grip and a searing pain blossomed in his chest below the collarbone. With a trembling breath his eyes darted to the needle sticking out of him and his shaking hands managed to wrench it free before any of the tranquilizer was injected. In the shock he hadn't noticed that he was slowly backing away but as his spine connected with the trunk of a small tree he blinked and tried to regain his handle on the situation. Dread set in as he noted that he had effectively and literally backed himself into a corner. Quackerjack had regained one of his knives and Drake dully wondered when he'd lost his own. There wasn't time to dwell on that however as his tormentor charged him. He dodged with a roll and grabbed an empty flowerpot to break over the maniac's head but when he readied himself he found that there was no immediate attack. It seemed in his eagerness to skewer him Quackerjack had charged too hard and gotten his blade stuck in the tree's bark. Something happened then that stopped Drake in his tracks completely. All at once the tree's branches rained down and knocked the jester clear across the room.

Seizing this moment of confusion Drake barreled out of the room avoiding the tree as it lashed around like a wounded animal. He knew Quackerjack wouldn't stay down long and he needed to get out of here. The nightmarish hallway accepted him as the remainder of the smoke settled on the ground like mist. He needed to get out of here as fast as possible. Bushroot would have to fend for himself, he decided as he rounded the corner. He bolted toward the elevator as it was his only option. With feverish urgency his finger mashed the "up" button until he was able to regain some of his senses. He had lost his knife, lost the syringe, used one of his smoke bombs and the suit jacket was restricting his movement terribly. In a flash he had removed the tie and the jacket, while shoving Rhoda's map and remaining projectiles in his pant pocket. What he wouldn't give to be in his trusty old Darkwing costume right now, he felt so exposed. White hot agony gripped him and his scream pierced the cramped space. Through narrowed eyes he looked down to see a knife embedded in the flesh of his thigh and he immediately recognized it as his own. Jingling raced toward him and he managed to duck another knife thrown at him.

Rage pounded through his veins and when Quackerjack was within striking distance he smashed his fist into the demented face so hard the jester spun before he hit the ground. A familiar "ding" announced the elevator's arrival and it was blissfully empty. Drake rushed in and assaulted the lobby button as Quackerjack staggered back to his feet. The doors where halfway closed when the clown's hand shot between them. Anger still powered Drake's actions and he ripped the blade from his bloody leg and stabbed the greenish hand. The limb was retracted with a shout and the doors finally closed. As the elevator rose Drake felt his knees wobble but he willed them steady. He stared at his reflection once more, he looked as if he'd been hauled face first through a mile of rocks and broken glass. His eyes fell on the red patch seeping across his chest from the needle puncture and steeled himself, he had to think. He'd have to fight his way out, of that he was certain. Quackerjack would have alerted the whole building by now. Where the hell was Bushroot anyway? Was this all a trap after all? The lights in the elevator flickered as the lobby level came and went. His eyes locked on the floor indicator as the levels started to race by faster and faster. The mundane music through the speaker was suddenly replaced by a familiar voice and Drake's reflected face contorted in fear.

"Welcome to the Megavolt express. Going UP?" The rodent cackled giddily. "UP! UP! UP!"

Drake tried to get his blood coated fingers to pry open the doors as Megavolt's laughter continued to ring through the tinny speaker. Unable to get them open he resorted to using his blade to jimmy the gap between the doors open and wrenched them apart enough to see the maddening speed at which the floors were zooming by. There was no way he could get out at this speed, he needed it to slow down or stop before he attempted to jump, but how? An earsplitting crash answered the thought and he was tossed back into the corner of the elevator. He hissed in pain and felt new bruises forming as his eyes lingered on the suddenly damaged roof of the compartment. Quickly he scrambled to the partially opened doors and looked up the shaft to see what appeared to be a large vine holding the renegade elevator in place.

"It seems we're having some technical difficulties please stand by and enjoy the soothing sound of elevator music._ Do-do-do-da-doooo. La-la-laaaa-laaa-laaa~_" Megavolt crooned off key as the lights sparked and died in the ravaged elevator.

With as much strength as he could muster Drake shoved the doors of the elevator open enough for him to squeeze through. He hung halfway into to the shaft and was delighted to see a door opened below him, a single Eggman was looking down the gaping hole to see where the commotion was coming from. A rustle of leaves came from above and he looked to see that the vine was starting to unravel itself from the ruined elevator. His brain noted that it had burst into the shaft from two floors above. With a brief steadying breath Drake launched himself out of the elevator and miraculously collided with the Eggman in such a way that the grunt stumbled into the open maw of the elevator shaft and he simply connected with a carpeted floor.

Drake found himself unable to move from where he'd landed as the metallic screech of the once again careening elevator filled the air. He heard himself wheezing and the adrenaline that had carried him this far had started to wear off giving way to the intense pain that bombarded him from every angle. All he wanted to do was close his eyes and give in to exhaustion but he couldn't. Not in this den of wolves. He forced his battered muscles into action as he peeled himself off the floor. Drunkenly he stumbled down the hall to a sign that he both cherished and hated. Two floors up. Two floors up was where the vine was. It was either two floors up or God knows how many down. He pushed the door to the stairwell open and entered causing a frenzy of echoing footsteps. Movement from the hall he had just left caught his eye and he leaned his head out of the stairwell to observe a bubbling mass of water sliding out of the open elevator shaft. With all the speed he could muster he took off up the first flight of steps, the blood from his wounded leg splattering a trail as he went. To serve as breadcrumbs for the vultures he thought severely. Something wet gripped his leg and instantly he was swept off his feet. The world became a blur as he was dragged down more flights of stairs than he would have liked. Every part of him that could slam against the concrete steps did as he scrambled to grab hold of anything to hinder his descent. Finally his hand found an iron railing and he held on for dear life. Whatever was holding him tugged him harder and he kicked out only to hear splashing.

"Heave-ho! Heave-ho! It's down the stairs you go! It's all hands on deck to break your neck heave-ho heave-ho heave-ho!" Sang a gargled voice as the blinding agony released Drake's vision.

Providence must have been with him because he had not been the only thing to be dragged down the stairs with this liquid menace. With his free hand he inched his way toward the only hope he had and wrapped his fingers around the black nozzle. The fire extinguisher came easily into his grip and with intense concentration he released his hold on the banister to grab the device. Immediately he was flung down more stairs but he managed to spray the liquefied dog with the flame retardant foam and it sluggishly tried to shake it off. By some stroke of luck the dog had been too preoccupied to maintain his grip and Drake was back on his feet and taking the steps three at a time instantaneously. The crackle of electricity filled the stale air as he heard Megavolt slam into the stairwell somewhere above him. If he stopped moving for even a second it would all be over. Far below where he'd shaken the so called Liquidator he heard Quackerjack's voice shouting orders and male voices answering before a thunderous choir of foot falls rattled the walls. He tossed the fire extinguisher behind him it had only slowed him down as he continued his frantic pace. Suddenly as if time had slowed to a crawl he felt his own body start to betray him. He wasn't going to make it. His body was shutting down. Despair welled inside him as he pushed his failing legs farther. He should have asked Fenton for help, he should have told S.H.U.S.H. , he should have warned Isabella about Duncan. He would never see Gosalyn again, or Morgana. His wounded leg gave out on him and he collapsed on a landing in a broken heap. He never should have pushed them all away. They would have talked him out of this... or at least come up with a better plan. His eyes squeezed shut as his quaking hand reached for the Macabre pendant around his neck.

The hand never reached the necklace however because he was suddenly plucked off the ground and flung through a doorway. His back connected with a wall where he was instantly smothered in ivy. On impulse he tried to struggle but the little vines and leaves only constricted him further. The hammering of footsteps neared and he stared at the door opposite him as it lazily swung shut. His breath caught in his chest as the shouting voices and loud footfalls came and went as their owners rocketed by. It was only a moment after that their volume died away and his breath came out in one long burst. The plants that blanketed him dispersed slightly but he was still pinned to the wall. Secretly he was grateful, he wasn't sure he would have been able to stand on his own.

"What the hell are you doing? Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

Drake blinked thickly and glanced up and down the hall. It was overrun with plant life but not a single person. His eyes returned to the wall opposite him and nearly jumped when he saw a pair of eyes glaring back at him. Bushroot. He had forgotten how unsettling the plant duck was. He was completely indistinguishable from his surrounding foliage until he wanted you to know where he was. Bushroot stepped out of hiding and stalked toward him.

"Well?" Bushroot snapped testily. "Answer me!"

"I came to get you." Drake realized how pathetic an answer it was, how pathetic a rescue it had become. It also didn't help that Bushroot eyed him with bottomless suspicion. "I found Rhoda she had it all planned-"

"She's safe?" he interrupted hopefully. All Drake could do was nod in response. "Of course, the plan. Sadly the plan has changed. It never would have worked. She never should have sent you here."

"Tell me what's happening." He croaked.

"There isn't time." The intelligent cobalt eyes blinked a slow aggravated blink. "I will tell you this, Negaduck is out of his mind. I'm sure Rhoda told you about what we did with Quackerjack and if he's not stopped soon... there will be absolutely no way to stop him."

"S-she said that he wants to capture me?"

"Yes. And a hard time he'd have of it too if you didn't waltz into his stronghold on your own." He spat venomously. "Although 'capture' is too nice a word. He wants you under lock and key. He wants you to be catatonic, barely alive and complacent. Lobotomized possibly. A fate worse than death awaits you if you do manage to fall into his clutches, and I would know. I've died twice."

"But... why? Why not kill me?" The ivy started to remove itself from him and he had to fight to stay upright. Bushroot kept his cool gaze on him as if trying to solve a puzzle.

"I believe he's afraid of what will happen if you die."

Drake's brow knotted in confusion.

"That doesn't make any sense he's tried to kill me dozens of times."

"He's _almost_ killed you dozens of times. Think stupid. Tell me why he wants you alive because I can't quite figure it out."

"I-" Drake shook his brutalized head, his brain suffering a sudden blast of pain. "-I don't know. Or..." He blinked thoughtfully. "-or I just can't remember."

"Well I suggest you start doing memory exercises because your time is running out. He's had Megavolt locked up in a lab since he got here making something and judging by how heavily it's being guarded, I know it's not going to be good news for anyone."

Somewhere beyond the door voices were drawing near again and this time there were dozens more. A stern look passed from Bushroot to Drake and before another word was spoken a giant leaf sprung into life from the wall and cocooned his unresisting body. Drake felt the stem of the leaf snake around his bill to silence him. The entire hallway burst into life, the plants wiggling and writhing, the only thing that remained unmoving was Bushroot.

"Tell Rhoda to forget about me."

A smash tore his eyes away from Bushroot and he stared at a potted plant as it hopped away from the window it had just broken. The skyline twinkled beyond the fractured glass as the hole caused a chill wind to tear through the hallway. The surrounding plant life suddenly banded together to drag him toward the broken window and he struggled helplessly.

"Oh and Darkwing," Bushroot called over the howl of the wind. "If you ever try something this brainless again I'll kill you myself and then we'll all know what _would_ happen."

Horror washed over him as he was violently hurled through the air and jettisoned out the window. There was barely a moment allowed for a scream before the leaf morphed out of its cocoon shape and formed a passable parachute. He couldn't turn far enough to see what was happening behind him, what had become of the building that tried to devour him, but he was starting to fade anyway. His vision darkened as the upper levels of sky scrapers floated by and after what felt like eternity he felt himself crash and the world slipped completely away.

* * *

Darkwing Duck and all related characters are (c) Disney


	12. Repercussions

Chapter Twelve

Repercussions

The warmth of summer sun kissed his skin and made his sleepy head even heavier. The scent of freshly cut grass rolled over him and his imagination conjured it as a green wind lazily twinkling in the light. Peaceful calm held him in it's palm and in the back of his mind he knew it would dissolve back into chaos before too long. But for now he was safe. He was hiding. No one knew to look for him here except for... the thought was interrupted by a dull ache in his head. Drake sucked in a hissing breath and raised a hand to massage his throbbing temples but stopped when the hand came into view. Curiously he turned it over in careful investigation, it was so small. Of course it was, said his brain, you're only seven. He tried to sit up but it seemed as if gravity had increased tenfold, pinning him down. Unable to sit up his eyes rolled around to his surroundings. He was deep in the woods, familiar woods, the sound of the creaking limbs and rustling leaves stirred a warmth in his chest. He knew this place, but he could not remember. With a bracing breath he tried to sit up again but the weight on him would not lift and pain shot through every inch of him. Phantom images of a jester with a knife and a needle in his chest flickered across his mind. The fight left him in a rush of agony. Sunlight glistened overhead through the thick canopy, as he swivelled his eyes around once more. He managed to angle his head just far enough to make out something in the distance. His eyes focused on a manor, it's appearance choppy through the thick trees but he had seen it before. It was the same mansion he'd hallucinated in that alleyway, it was his home. Bile and the foreign black substance bubbled in this throat at the sight of it, pain coiling around his brain like a barbed serpent. His eyes clamped shut as the wind ruffled his feathers.

It was a lovely sensation amid all this agony, and he could almost imagine it whispering his name. This place, maybe it was heaven? The idea made him shudder as a cloud passed over the sun bathing him in shadow. If this was heaven he would be dead, and he couldn't be dead. He couldn't be, not now. Not now that he'd failed so terribly to stop the true evil that crept through the darkness, _through that mansion _his brain added. The cloud started to release it's hold on the sun and the wind breathed his name again. If this was heaven it was entirely unwanted, it would have to wait, he couldn't give up now. No matter how desperately the wind now called his name and laced it's fingers through his hair. If this was heaven... why did it smell like garbage?

"Drake damn you, wake up!" Pleaded the wind and the hot hands in his hair removed themselves to glide across his chest to spark the sting of a forgotten wound. He cried out sharply as the puncture wound in his chest diffused the pain throughout his entire body. Tears sprang to his eyes and he cracked them open to see the green leaves shrivel into a ghastly brown and shed their leaves in a mere matter of seconds. The serene scene warped into a nightmarish mangle of dead trees and even the sky darkened to a blood red. This was not heaven. The pain in his chest suddenly was accented by a tingling numbness as his form was slowly flooded with pins and needles. He squeezed his hands into fists and another sickly gurgle of anguish escaped him, he could feel the individual fingers on the hot hands press into his skin and he blinked at the swirling red sky over head. The sun was there. It was still there how had he missed it. It's eyes were so green, he couldn't believe he'd missed it. Wait. The sun had eyes? He blinked and the dream faded as reality snuck back into focus. When his eyes opened in the actual world he had to squint and turn his sensitive eyes away from what he'd dreamed as the sun. Morgana was hunched over him, a streetlight blazing behind her as the haze of the city at night floated overhead. He lazily took in their surroundings to see Bushroot's leaf glider had deposited him in an open dumpster. The wind named Morgana spoke again.

"I don't know if I should kiss you or kill you Drake Mallard." Her voice cracked with relief despite her rage.

"I know-" The words scraped through his abused throat with the taste of blood. He could feel the strangulation bruises on his throat as he spoke.

"You promised us that you'd be more careful that's why we left-"

"You're right."

"And now look at you!" Something wet splashed on his face and he flinched instinctively. "I can't keep doing this. I can't keep letting you go off to destroy yourself and sweep in just in time to put you back together. It's not fair. I barely made it, you don't know how hard it was. I could feel it-" Another tear dripped on his face and his eyes finally focused on her face.

"I'm sorry."

Morgana's face twisted deeper in a mixture of relief and despair. The expression hurt him almost as a much as a physical blow. His body had finally regained some strength and his hands grabbed hold of her. Surprise dispersed the previous look on Morgana's face and he pulled her into a kiss. He kissed her desperately, his mind brought back all to clear what he was certain would have been his final thoughts had it not been for Bushroot's intervention. The inescapable sureness of knowing he'd never see her again, that he'd failed her and everyone else. Yet here she was giving him his second, third, fourth, hell, his hundredth chance. She didn't deserve this suffering just as much as he didn't deserve her constant aid. He loved this woman, and how had he courted her? With death and danger. Her arms snaked around him in this reckless embrace and he knew that they weren't even close to being out of these treacherous woods. Wolves were lurking behind every tree and he was suddenly aware of how crass his actions had been. The kiss was broken with a strangled sob as Morgana buried her face into the nook of his purpled neck.

"I'm sorry I sent you away." He whispered hoarsely and her response was a wet sniff. His hands slid down her silky hair. "I was wrong." Despite the pathetic heap he'd become he smiled dryly. "Don't expect to hear that too often."

"I'll mark the occasion." She croaked in his ear and he almost melted at the tone of amusement in her voice. Anything to replace this anguish was a godsend. "Today will be offically dubbed as 'The Day Drake Mallard Admitted He Was Wrong'. There may even be parades."

"Goodie."

"D-did _he_ do this to you?" Her fingertips danced along his throat and the tingling set to work on removing the unsightly hand prints.

"Actually," he sighed and rubbed his eyes tiredly. "I haven't even caught a glimpse of him since you left with-" A jolt of panic darted through him. "Gosalyn! Where-"

"Shh, she's safe." Her face hovered over him, her eyes calm. "If she was here though you'd probably have a few more black and blue marks to add to your collection for whatever stupid plan led you to this." Anger flickered across her features for a fleeting moment before she removed herself from his arms and continued to repair his ravaged body, the stab wound in his thigh flared in misery at her touch. "She's been worrying herself sick about you since the moment we left. We both have..."

"Morg," He tried to sit up but she firmly held him down.

"Don't move. Just let me heal you before you get yourself into anymore trouble." The magic penetrated the laceration and he grit his teeth with a groan. "Once you're able to stand we're going to see her. I promised her we'd both come get her. She needs to see you more than you can imagine but..." She flicked the white collar of the stolen shirt he wore. "Not in his blood splattered clothes. So we'll go to the tower get you changed, and then we'll pay her a visit. I don't want to hear any excuses."

"There won't be any. I can't wait to see her." The panic released it's grip on him as a smile absorbed his face. "Hey Morg?"

"_Yes?_" She eyed him quickly and the smallest of smiles infected her face as well.

"Thank you for ignoring me and coming back."

"Dark darling, I will ignore your stupidity forever. And-" Her eyes met his and the streetlight twinkled as if suddenly replaced with sparklers. "...I will always come back for you."

* * *

Two Eggmen struggled against the wind, their boots crunched up broken glass as they wrestled to cover the busted window with a plastic tarp. The gaping hole in the glass had the effect of turning the hallway into a wind tunnel. This not only made it more difficult for the pair of grunts to repair the issue but also made it highly amusing to watch. Steelbeak held his tie down to his chest to keep it from flapping around and fought to sober himself as the plastic sheet pummeled the grunts from every angle. It would have been ill advised to let out a chuckle in the presence of the stock still figure beside him.

"Ya don't really buy Reggie's bit a' fiction do ya Boss? He ain't da type ta git enthusiastic enough ta chuck a guy outta window jus' cuz." Steelbeak glanced at his superior in anticipation of an answer but all that came was a grunt. Unfazed he carried on. "Besides I tink we both know who spilled da beans on where he could find us. Not ta mention when you were off doin' yer ting and I was er... well while we both were out." The Boss didn't respond so he plowed ahead. "It's time ta git serious 'bout findin' dat Dendrin dame. I mean if she found Darkwing and blabbed to him who knows who else could be knockin' on da door with warrants or maybe flamet'rowers. Maybe we oughta tink about lockin' dis place down and relocatin' t' another facility quiet like?"

"My, my Steelbeak what _has_ happened to your spine? Has it dribbled down your leg with the rest of your bodily fluids?" Negaduck growled and without a glance at the offending agent approached the lingering plant life that clung to the walls. He ripped a fist full of leaves off in unmasked rage. "Have Quackerjack and Megavolt turned up?"

"No sign of 'em." _Hopefully they got themselves maimed _he thought mirthlessly.

One of the repairmen lost his grip on the tarp and the frigid December air ripped down the passage and sank it's teeth into his flesh. The rooster narrowed his eyes at the back of Negaduck's head, a thought that had been reoccurring and ongoing bloomed in his brain once more. He wondered if he'd be able to throw the little bastard out the window before he could retaliate. It was an empty thought, for now, the odds were not in his favor. But he knew the urge would rise again. Ever since this Darkwing idiot came around Negaduck had completely lost focus on what F.O.W.L. was meant for. If he was in high command, he mused, things would veer back to their usual missions. This organization wasn't meant to be used as a mere toy army for the whims of a madman. He nodded darkly to himself, yeah things would be great if only there were was a slight change in the food chain. The mutinous thoughts slipped away as Negaduck released the leaves from his grip and they tumbled past him and down the open elevator shaft. Steelbeak's gaze stayed with the gaping hole for a tantalizing moment before Negaduck spoke again.

"Tell someone to get the Liquidator up here."

"F-Flood?" He cursed the apprehension in his voice even as his chest tightened with a flash of fear. "Uh ya tink I should be around fer dat? I mean I did-"

"His wife?" The blue eyes snapped to him like a shot. "Before you had to clean up your mess and her brain plastered to the wall?" The dark voice sounded so smug, so amused but not even a hint of smile tainted the furious face. "You're just itching to add that to the list of excuses why you want to scamper away with your tail between your legs into hiding?"

"I. Ain't. Runnin'." He proclaimed sternly and his anger nearly boiled over as the sardonic voice continued.

"Don't shit your pants Rusty. I'm not going to throw you to the whirlpool. I've got a special mission for him. One for you too if you think you can pull yourself together and face a flabby old man without crawling under the nearest bed?"

"Want me ta kill him?" Steelbeak barked irritably. Hoping to change the arrogant little duck's sarcastic tone.

"No. Not yet. Just make sure he makes it back here with the use of his voice. I have some questions for him." Negs produced a card from his pocket with an address and a physical description. Steelbeak went to take the extended card but the mallard's grip stayed strong after he had tried to take it. Slowly he met the arctic eyes with his own. "Do not mess this up. If he does not end up in our custody-" Negaduck's eyes narrowed to slits. "Just make sure that doesn't happen. Or you'll have me to deal with."

The card was relinquished from it's death grip and slid effortlessly into the rooster's pocket. He was ashamed to realize he was afraid of failure. Somehow this little mallard was still able to terrify him, and it made him feel sick to his stomach.

"Take about thirty guys with you and whatever firepower and vehicles you want."

"Fer one old man?"

"Rumor has it he's in demand. I anticipate you needing a little more motivation to convince him to accompany you." Negaduck nodded to himself wryly. "Now get old drippy up here."

The Eggmen finally moved away from their work. The window was sealed. The outside world was back where it belonged but as he relayed the order over his communicator he couldn't help but think that it wouldn't stay there long.

* * *

A light crept through the slightly open door. Gosalyn, unable to sleep, noticed it immediately. Morgana had done it! She'd found Darkwing and now the were back at Avian way! She threw the blankets off, sending a familiar or two airborne. In the disturbed darkness she scrambled to pull socks on over her bare feet, Drake would have scolded her for sure if she didn't have any on in this dank chill. Everything was okay, she knew it would be! Her smile was so wide it hurt. Drake wouldn't die on her! No way! Though she was definitely going to give him an earful for making her worry so much. Her heart danced as she thought of how soon she'd be back at home and she started digging around for her suitcase to pack it back up. She wanted to get out of here as soon as possible, she wanted to get far away from the heartless old ghoul who hated her for his own prejudiced reasons. She wasn't even going to tell him that she was leaving. She didn't care. Her excitement made her wiggle happily as she crawled around in the dark trying to find the odds and ends she'd strewn about in her short stay here. Oh, she would give Drake the biggest hug he'd ever had. Grateful that she had him, grateful that he loved her, grateful that she didn't have a horrible father like Morgana. She'd tell him all about how terrible Moloculo was and maybe Morgana would live with them and they could make her forget about this stupid place. They'd make an awesome family. Together they could all mend from their broken pasts and forget the nightmares that always seemed to creep up on them. Hope welled up inside her and she suddenly didn't care about packing anymore she just wanted to see them both with her own eyes. She ran toward the propped open door breathlessly. Morgana and Drake would yell at her for sure to keeping it open but it seemed so perfect now. She would fling it open and smile at them and Drake would rush her and swoop her up in a hug and everything would be alright. Hopeful words flowed up to her mouth as if a song had erupted inside her as her hand had almost gripped the knob. Voices emerged through the opening and all the hopes and dreams she'd been enamored with suddenly died.

"So, why are we here again?"

"We're here to play a little game Spark-"

"What was that?"

"Uh, Megavolt. The doofus has to have something worth our while. We've just gotta sniff it out."

"Ohhh, like truffles?"

"No! Not like truffles you dimbulb!"

"Okay, okay. And-" there was a sudden spark of light that made her wince. "-who lives here?"

"Darkwing Duck! How many times do I have to tell you!" The speaker let out a frustrated sigh. "Oh for the-the digbat from the prison? The one you JUST tried to crunch in an elevator?"

"Oh right. Right."

Gosalyn held her breath and peeked through the crack. The dark upstairs hallway of her house greeted her. She could only make out a small slice of the downstairs and a light clicked on down there somewhere. She could see two elongated shadows moving around and she gripped the door so tight her fingers ached.

"You said he has a daughter?"

A familiar laugh made her shiver.

"Oh yes he does. Gosalyn. Maybe we'll find where he hid her too. Olly Olly Oxen free!" Quackerjack's voice cackled and she choked down a terrified peep.

"He has animals?"

"No, no it's just an expre-yeah sure. He has animals."

"This place is pretty neat considering it houses livestock."

"Megs? How about you look around upstairs? I'll snoop around down here."

"Do the oxen live upstairs?"

"Not as I recall."

There was a creak as someone started to ascend the staircase. She knew she ought to slam the door shut now but she hesitated. Maybe they'd talk about their plan. She already learned that Drake wasn't with them, that he was okay. Neither of them mentioned Morgana either. Her heart hammered in her chest, but how was Quackerjack here? Maybe this was a nightmare after all? Who was this other person he was so chummy with? She drew in a steadying breath and steeled her resolve. She would eavesdrop for just another minute. She might learn something important to tell Drake when he came to get her. A rat with rounded shoulders ambled into view and she eyed him carefully. He was wearing a prison jumpsuit that had dark red patches on it and she instantly knew that they were blood even though she wished she didn't. The tips of his hands and the fur that ran along his forearm were completely singed black and he had a metal cap on his head with two severed cables dangling languidly behind him. Every once in a while a spark would leap from the end of a wire and she would wince at it's brightness, the light reflecting off the lenses of the goggles he wore. This person, his name was Megavolt. She made a mental note for Drake although by the sound of their conversation he had already met this new villain. She noticed that he was humming as he moved around the upstairs mildly interested. She held her breath as he started to look in each room he came across. He was still four doors away, she still had time to listen.

"What should I be looking for?" Megavolt shouted as he lifted the edge of his cap to scratch his forehead distractedly.

An angry sigh issued from downstairs and with a terrible jingling a figure she had hoped would never greet her in the waking world again bounded into view. Quackerjack approached the rodent with a strained smile on his wretched face.

"Sparky ya gotta stay focused. The Boss has probably been called back to home base right now to referee the situation and we gotta get to business in here before he gets to siccing the hounds on us. I mean, you wouldn't wanna jump out before someone lost at hide and seek right? Then you gotta pay attention! We're looking for information about his secret hideout, or where he's stashed the girl."

"Which girl?"

Anger flashed in Quackerjack's fractured eyes but he laughed heartily.

"Good question! Both maybe. Gosalyn and prissy pants Ms. Dendrin. Oh if we found them both wouldn't that be fun?"

"Yeah, yeah, fun whatever. Can I take this?" Megavolt gingerly picked up a table lamp.

"No. You can come back for it later. For right now we're going to leave everything like it is."

A sour set of chords tore through Morgana's room as the ancient grandfather clock at the top of the Macabre's staircase announced the time. Gosalyn froze in absolute horror as the clock continued to warble it's little dirge for the hour. She stared at the two men in the hallway before her as they looked around in confusion. Her brain screamed at her to move but fear nailed her down and a new wave of terror crashed upon her when Quackerjack's eyes landed on her. A gut wrenching smile curled on his bill.

"Well I'll be, lookie who we have here."

Finally, Gosalyn regained her wits and slammed the door. It would have closed with a blessed thump, had it not been for the shoe that still remained wedged in the opening and sent the door bouncing back at her. She kicked the sneaker away and went to shut it again but a foot stopped it from closing. A startled trembling scream spilled from her as she pushed on the door as hard as she could, the decaying stench of Quackerjack oozed through the crack like a precursor extension of himself.

"Now is this anyway to treat your old departed best friend little Waddle-Mallard?" Giggled the jester as his hand worked it's way around to grip the edge of the door. Numbly she saw the bloodied bandage that covered the slightly greened feathers. Images of zombies flitted across her mind and with a small flare of satisfaction she somehow knew Drake had been the one to stab the monster. The thought of him helped her regain some of her senses and she pushed with all her might against the door. If only she could get it closed the portal would break and they'd be sealed away on the other side of the globe. The wool of her socks slid across the cold cobbles as Quackerjack began to pry the door open. It was no use. She wasn't strong enough and she suddenly was smashed in the head as the result of a violent shove from the creature on the other side. Before she realized it she was falling over backwards and her back hit the cool floor harshly. She gaped in wide eyed horror as the door lazily swung open the rest of the way and Quackerjack stepped into the room like a boogeyman from primordial darkness. His awful eyes were locked on her with unblinking interest, she squirmed away toward the bed as Megavolt ambled in looking around perplexed.

"This is an odd closet." He stated airily.

"Long time no see precious." Quackerjack grinned at her as she continued to worm away. "I hope you haven't replaced me with a new playmate since we've been apart. I was surprised that I didn't even get a postcard while I was away. I thought about you a lot I wondered if you told your dear old dad what little secrets we shared back at my funhouse?"

"Stay away from me you creeps!" She croaked feebly as she finally managed to get to her feet.

"No can dosville baby doll. It's time we got to playing a new game and this time I think the winner will be different."The clown crooned darkly as he continued to stride toward her.

Without hesitation she spun around and started a mad sprint toward the door to the castle. She started to plot, she'd race through the halls down the stairs and out the front door, she just have to keep moving. If she kept running they couldn't catch her. She had barely cleared two long paces before a strong cold hand caught her wrist. Gosalyn struggled madly as Quackerjack started to pull her into his clutches. Her foot collided with the random debris she'd deposited around the room and recognized the wooden clunk instantly. She suddenly had a new plan.

"Don't be difficult now," Quackerjack cooed. "Or you won't be allowed to participate."

She jabbed her fingers into the wound on the hand that held her and the clown let out a yelp of pain as he released her. Gosalyn dropped to her knees and swept the hockey stick out from under the bed. Like a barbarian warrior she rose back to her feet brandishing the implement like a broadsword.

"Okay!" She roared. "No one touches me again or I'll knock his block off!"

Megavolt finally looked at her and she felt her skin crawl but it was Quackerjack's laugh that interrupted the standstill. The grim laughter caused her muscles to spring to life and she took a fierce swing at his skull. The tails of his hat tinkled merrily as he easily dodged and the flat head of the hockey stick was caught and halted by a single charred hand. Megavolt kept his unblinking eyes on her as bright blue volts sprang from his fingers like angry vipers. Her breath caught in her chest as she watched the impossible grip send the dancing electricity along the wooden surface burning the smooth surface with angry black lashes. She tried to pull it out of his grip but only felt her feet slide uselessly against the floor. The unnatural display had held her attention so completely that she shrieked when she felt Quackerjack pry her away from her only defense. She screamed bloody murder as she pummeled him relentlessly but he just fixed his grip on her arm and steadily started dragging her toward the door to St. Canard. Determination set in and she was not going to be kidnapped without a fight this time. Her hands grabbed fistfuls of the curtains and it took a few tugs from her abductor before the ancient fabric ripped free in her hands. Her hands grasped a fixture on the wall her fingers crying in agony as the iron bit into her flesh, her knuckles going white with effort. Quackerjack was grumbling something to Megavolt and she suddenly felt the rodent grab her as well. The combined effort of the two of them pulled the fixture off the wall and the candle it had been holding clattered to the floor splaying wax across the ground like a blood splatter. Her screams spewed from her with new found urgency and she tried to fight to free herself from these impossible predators. It was no use. Megavolt and Quackerjack had nearly pulled her back through the door. They were going to do it again, just like Morgana had warned her. They were going to use her as bait to kill her father. Tears mixed with her howling as she continued to struggle.

"What is the meaning of this!?" Rumbled an eerie voice.

The interruption must have confused her captors because they halted. She could barely breathe over her sudden bout of fright. Her terrified eyes locked on him. In the dying candlelight the long limbed ghoul's red eye seemed to illuminate the entire room like a pit of fire. Moloculo stood in the maw of the open door, his castle spanning out behind him like a haunted battlefield.

"Go back to bed old timer." Quackerjack's vile voice threatened with only a trace of amusement.

"Normals." Hissed Moloculo distastefully.

"Help!" Gosalyn breathed pleadingly, tears spilling out of her eyes. Her skin prickled as she came under the old ghoul's crimson gaze. She was dead. He wanted her gone and now he would finally have his wish. Oh god yes. She'd be gone. Gone for good. He would lock up every room in this tomb and never think about her again. Or maybe he'd get a few laughs thinking about what this demented duo would do to her. The old eyes narrowed with fury.

"That girl has been left in my care. Unhand her or I will make you wish you had never set foot in my castle." Moloculo's voice was like the roll of distant thunder. Sure and terrible. It was so uncaring and hard a statement but she wanted to hug him.

"Oh yeah? You hear that Megs? Well don't you worry your little top hat gramps we're the babysitters come to take away the little whippersnappers so you can go back to slurping your applesauce and watching your stories."

The spluttering candle finally went out bathing the scene in darkness. All Gosalyn could focus on was the ghoul's hand as it slowly started to flex it's taloned fingers. Her eyes darted to the shadows as they started to stir. She gasped as she caught glimpses of demonic forms with rows and rows of razor sharp teeth.

"Gosalyn do not be afraid." She nearly jumped out of her skin at the alien sound of her name spoken in Moloculo's voice. "I will not let them take you."

The shadows came alive.

* * *

Isabella walked purposefully down the exorbitantly decorated hallway of the hotel and pulled her hair out of it's tight ponytail. The stark white hair slithered over her shoulders and she tossed her head. She could barely hear the S.H.U.S.H. agents behind her keeping a watchful eye on every nook and cranny of the space. Or maybe just her form from behind she thought coldly. She hated that she had to leave so crucial a step in her plan to other people but there was no way she could carry on. Her eyes ached from lack of sleep and her brain was practically fried. There was no avoiding the inevitable and this meant that she had to sleep. At least for an hour or two. As she neared her room she hoped that she could at least get that with out Richard fussing over her. The hopeless fool could be so infuriating.

"Do you want us to go in first ma'am?" One agent inquired keenly.

"That will not be necessary." She shrugged him off irritably. All she needed was for Richard to see an agent after almost twenty four hours apart. He probably would assume she had been kidapped like a child or murdered or probably even stubbing her toe in the lobby would cause him to fly into cardiac distress. No, he needed to see her walk through that door perfectly fine and that was what she was going to give him. She fixed her cold eyes on the two agents who straightened their spines instinctively. "Just stay out here. If we need you we'll come get you."

The suited men fell back with a nod and she slid the card into the door lock. As the little green light came on she wondered what silly thing her fiancee was going to regale her with this time as she tried to sleep. Maybe she would tell one of the agents to take him to the park to tire him out like a puppy. With light smile she opened the door.

The first step she took into the room was greeted with a soggy squish. Her eyes fell to the carpet to see pools collecting on the surface of the saturated fabric. The water seeped into the toe of her suede shoe with a frosty bite and her temper flared. The idiot must have left the bath running. She closed the door harshly. S.H.U.S.H. could foot this bill she was not putting a penny into this. She took a few more splashing steps into the heart of the suite and froze when she laid eyes on what awaited her.

Richard was drowning. But not in a conventional way. The lanky mallard was in the grip of a canine who to her eyes was nothing more than a sculpted mass of water. The impossible creature was dangling him in the air with a massive sphere of water covering his head like a reverse diving helmet. There were only a few tiny bubbles trickling from Richard's mouth as her eyes slid to the canine's face. It was staring at her.

"I'm the one you want." She announced. "Can't you tell the difference between a male and a female? Are you really as brainless as you appear?"

"Every young lady should know that appearances are deceiving!" Chirped the creature's bubbly voice with a touch of reproachfulness. The dog nodded as if giving a command and the soaked carpet beneath her feet lurched.

Isabella stumbled to stay standing in the sudden bobbing and ebbing of the floor beneath her. Her eyes flicked back to the canine to see a watery appendage whip toward her. She ducked and heard a destructive smash and the tinkle of broken glass.

"Hard water! It's a killer!"

A scowl set on her face as she ran full throttle at the beast and another geyser shot out at her. Unperturbed, she crouched beneath the blast and flung herself at the pair infront of her. Her shoulder caught Richard in the abdomen in a tackle with enough force to knock him free of the watery prison that held him. The two ducks collided with the side of the king sized bed and she received an accidental elbow to the ribs. With a hiss of pain she grabbed the hacking Richard by his soaked shirt collar and hauled him onto the bed his dead weight nearly toppling them both into a useless heap on the floor. Once she managed to get him safely on the dry tangled sheets she shot a quick glance around the room to where the dog was grinning at her like a cat with a particularly spunky mouse.

"Ah-ah!" He wagged an admonishing finger at her. "With the Liquidator on the case escape is never an option! Eradication is a guaranteed!" He spread his arms open wide like a rapt conductor basking in his orchestra's crescendo. The surface of the dog's chest began to distort into a rolling boil. Isabella crawled across the bed (and Richard) to the bedside table, her hands ripped open the little drawer as the Liquidator cackled. They were going to be boiled alive like overgrown lobsters and as if that wasn't bad enough she observed he was spewing forth another annoying quip. "Never was there a story of greater woe than this of Juliet and her Romeo!"

Her grasping hand hit home and she whirled around triumphant.

"Shut the hell up!" She snarled and pulled the trigger. The stun gun's tazer bolt sailed right through her target but the voltage carried through the water all the same. The canine screamed and the sound echoed around the room and was quickly multiplied as if every droplet of water in the room was shrieking with him. Isabella covered her ears and the dog exploded into a spray of droplets that disappeared into the collected water that covered the ruined rug. She let the weapon slip from her fingers onto the bed and stared suspiciously to where the Liquidator had stood.

"Is-Issy" croaked a voice behind her. "You saved me!"

Her eyes tore themselves away from the empty air to the drenched mallard who grinned at her despite his soggy brown hair dripping into his eyes. Something inside her twisted at the way he looked at her and she roughly slicked the sopping hair way from his face.

"You're no good to me dead Richard."

"How long have you had that thing next to our bed?"

She rolled her eyes and carefully tested the ground, it didn't move. There was still no sign of the creature composing itself. She was on her feet with a squelch and she seized one of his hands to help him to his feet. The soaked Richard wobbled as he joined her in standing and it aggravated her to no end.

"I always keep one on me when I'm forced to stay in rat traps like this. Now pull yourself together you're embarrassing yourself."

Richard had other priorities in mind and he threw his arms around her in a crushing hug. She shivered as whatever dryness she'd been able to maintain left her immediately in his clutches.

"Thank you so much darling." He proclaimed hoarsely and her eyes darted to movement in the far corner. A puddle was growing out of the carpet sluggishly trying to regain some sort of shape. She pried herself out of his arms.

"It's waking up we have to go."

Richard turned and stared at the small mass of water and recoiled at it's activity. Her hand grasped his bicep and led him toward the door which opened to find two agents at the ready.

"I've taken care of it." She barked at them. "Let's get the hell out of here."

As she pushed past the dazed agents she felt Richard trot up beside her matching her furious stride.

"What was that thing?" He asked like a curious child.

"Who cares."

"Issy?"

"What?"

"I love you."

"Yes I know."


End file.
